


Dark Attachments

by Padfootsazkaban



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Angst, Anxiety, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Love/Hate, Multi, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:08:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 58,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28252914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Padfootsazkaban/pseuds/Padfootsazkaban
Summary: “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”Dark Marks. Dark Attachments. There are things far worse to be bound by than love.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Original Female Character(s), Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 9
Kudos: 19





	1. Traitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Show me the most damaged parts of your soul, and I will show you how it still shines like gold'
> 
> -Nikita Gill

It was raining when I met Voldemort for the first time.

Puddles soak my black shoes as I follow the hastened steps of my mother who didn't even bother checking if our single umbrella covered the two of us. First meeting with the Dark Lord and I'm going to show up like a drenched rat. Wonderful.

"Aurora, if you don't hurry up, we'll be late. This is no time for bad impressions." My mother snaps in her effortlessly authoritative tone. I only roll my eyes as I'm basically stepping on her heels while we travel deeper down the path that leads up to a dark black house at the end of the street.

Rain drips off the curved surfaces of the mansion, seemingly dampening its color so it stands as one dark, black hole. A looming gate stands at the entrance, blocking us from getting indoors. At this rate, I'm not even worried about the meeting we're running late to. My socks are soaked.

My mother pulls out her wand from her black coat before handing me the umbrella. Rain immediately drowns her as she steadies her hands out against the gate, whispering something I can barely hear above the thunderous clouds. The gate creaks with the iron spirals unwinding as it slowly opens.

The end of my mother's black wand glows faintly before she hides it back into the folds of her coat. "Quickly Aurora." She whispers in hast. I hand her back the umbrella as we run towards the house. The gate creeks closed the moment we reach the marbled steps of the entrance only for the enormous doors to break open.

A woman in a black dress draped carefully over her figure stands at the opened door. Her pale features stand out against the shadowy accents surrounding her. Her skin and strips of her perfectly pinned hair, white amidst all the black.

"Narcissa, I apologize." My mother begins to ramble. I look curiously between the two women as my mother never gets nervous, and I'm beginning to think I should be taking this meeting more seriously.

Perhaps it's the idea of You-Know-Who being hidden inside Malfoy Manor that is almost unbelievable, if not comical to me. Even seeing Narcissa, Malfoy's mother, I'm having a hard time registering the fact I'm amongst the scum of the Wizarding World.

Of course, I've never thought of them as scum. I'm related to two of them with the only living one standing by my side. And as my mother shoves the closed umbrella into my frigid hands, she rolls up the sleeve of her left arm, revealing the outline of the Dark Mark. The same mark that I always used to trace with my chubby fingers when I was little. But as I grew up and the mark darkened from a faint outline to the blackened ink displayed on my mother's arm today, I fight the urge to instinctively turn away from the sight of it.

Narcissa nods, wordlessly stepping aside as she lets us hurry indoors. Although the inside of the house hardly contrasts the cold touch of the outdoor storm. _It's probably all the marble,_ I think.

"He doesn't like to be kept waiting, Evangeline." Narcissa whispers harshly as she walks stiffly away from us towards large stairs that seem to climb to nowhere. I raise an eyebrow at the use of my mother's first name.

She quickly follows Narcissa as I stay a few strides back, taking in the cold interior of the home to Draco Malfoy. I feel out of place, and I wonder how anyone would describe this block of marble as feeling like a home. And perhaps it isn't. After all, I'm in Malfoy's house on my way to meet with the Dark Lord. Who the hell opens their home to You-Know-Who?

Malfoy. The boy I always saw in passing from class to class as we wandered the halls of Hogwarts as first years all the way to our upcoming sixth year. Having never spoken a word to the silver-haired boy in all our years together with Slytherin House being the only shared interest between the two of us. And even then, I still spend my fair share of time outside of my own house. Call me a traitor. Seems to run in the family anyways.

I wouldn't have minded never having to officially meet Malfoy had I not been sat down a week ago and told that I was to accompany my mother in a meeting at Malfoy Manor. It's hard to admit that I was always curious about my family's dealings with the Dark Lord. It's even worse when you know your family has said dealings when your closest friends are the very group fighting against Him. A tricky line of morals is what I learned to balance on from a young age. It's something I believed was uniquely my burden to bear. But then there's Malfoy. I guess we both understand the idea that loyalty runs thick when it comes to family.

"Aurora stop making a scene." My mother's strained voice cuts me out of my hazed stares as I remove my eyes from a particularly ornate chair. Of course the Malfoys would use a chair as decoration.

"M'sorry mum." I say softly, lowering my eyes as I grab the edge of the dress I was forced to wear. Its thick layers feeling heavier than usual as I track water on the polished floors of the house.

My gaze stays lowered as I remain close behind my mother who whispers short sentences to Narcissa. The other women seemed distraught earlier and my only guess is from that of the Daily Prophet's front page these past months. The summer's issues spilling nasty secrets about the lives of several wizarding families, the likes of which caught up to the Malfoys. Lucius being in Azkaban, another secret commonality between me and Malfoy. Although my father never left its stone gates.

I almost run into my mother when she halts suddenly. She turns back to me with frantic nerves contorting her normally beautiful face as she swallows and forces a smile. Her delicate hands grip my arms as she looks sympathetically at me.

"Don't say a word unless asked to speak, darling." Her hushed warning is all she can say before Narcissa opens the doors to the room we stand outside of.

A silence befalls the crowd of strangers sitting at an elongated black table, set with matching black chairs. The only familiar face being Malfoy who sits quietly with his eyes down next to an empty seat I presume to be his mother's.

I'm not sure what I was expecting. Maybe something more exciting than an elaborate dinner complete with no food, but as my eyes travel across the faces of what anyone would call the worst of the worst they eventually land on Him and my chest suddenly tightens.

Pale, milky skin shadowed by darkened veins sits at the head of the table with black robes flowing from his body in an oceanic form. "Evangeline." His voice sounds strained but all too frightening. "I was beginning to worry you'd forgotten about our agreement."

I stay as hidden as possible behind my mother's thin frame as she straightens and squares her shoulders. "Of course not, My Lord." Her tone becomes the strongest it's been all day, reminding me of her usual confidence she carries at her work.

"I see you've brought our desired guest." Voldemort tilts his head slightly to get a better look at me. It's strange being sought after by the Dark Lord. I've asked Harry a couple times to describe how it feels and all he's ever shared was the immense fear he has for not only himself but for those he cares most about. And as I'm standing here, staring into the steel blue eyes of the Dark Wizard himself I can only resonate with one feeling as described by Harry. Fear.

His slender hand gestures to the two empty seats beside Narcissa who has taken her place beside Malfoy. My mother seems suddenly stripped of any parental instinct as she snaps her fingers to get me to come sit beside her at the table. I follow silently, taking my seat as I try and stop my hands from shaking. Malicious grins expand across the crowd as I feel so small in this large room. My only ounce of comfort being the small glance of shared worry from Malfoy before he places his eyes forward just as quickly as his initial glance.

I think that's the first time we've ever acknowledged each other's presence.

"So nice of you to join us Aurora. Your mother has been a loyal member for quite some time. And let's not forgot your illustrious father, Malachi." Voldemort's words seem to echo throughout the room. I find myself tightening my grip on the fabric of my dampened dress at my father's name. It's been some time since I've heard his name. My mother acts as if his existence was insignificant to our lives.

I stay quiet, only bringing my eyes to look directly at Him. His snake-like features seem to glow even among the black interior of the room. His skin like porcelain as he reveals a smile full of dirtied teeth at my silence.

It takes me only a moment to tear my eyes away as I go back to looking at the other guests. And that's when my eyes land on Professor Snape. Confusion sprouts in my mind as the last time I'd seen the professor was when he left the front doors of my house after a meeting with the Order not more than a month ago.

The Professor meets my eyes, narrowing them as a sort of warning to not think of such dealings that involve him and my mother. Their work with the Order all too shrouded in secrecy. But with the sudden rise of the Dark Lord, I suppose Snape was called back into Voldemort's grip just like my mother. Traitors is what they'll call them.

"Now I imagine you're all wondering why I have the likes of children seated among us." A general groan of agreement spreads across the table when Voldemort addresses his followers. And as I sit here, one of the 'children' mentioned, I wonder what I've been dragged to as that same sense of fear tightens its grip in my chest.

"You see, dear followers, Aurora and Draco's presence is no accident. In the recent acknowledgement of my return by the Ministry, it appears the previously ignorant group has finally come to their senses. I am no closer to killing Harry Potter than I was before Dumbledore begrudgingly stepped in. Which brings me to the very reason I have gathered you all here today." Voldemort talks slowly as excitement seems to build. I'm able to look quickly at my mother only to see her features contrasting that of the grins expanding among us. Worry creases her face as I also take note of her clasped hands in her lap, white knuckled against the black fabric of her dress.

"Dumbledore has proven to be quite the annoying obstacle and with the Ministry extending its claws deep into Hogwarts I am unable to relieve Harry Potter of his greatest defense. And yet, Aurora and Draco pass seemingly in and out of the gates to Hogwarts every year, sharing the same halls that the great Albus Dumbledore strides through. And so, this brings me to my reason for the children listening to our secrets and plans because they are now as a part of them as you all are." I shrink in my chair as manic glances make their way towards me. I'm still scared, but the feeling of embarrassment creeps it's way in. Sure, everyone in this room looks like they've seen better days looks-wise, but that damn rain outside ruined any chance I had at a clean introduction, making me feel exactly as Voldemort described me. A child.

"Lucius is now in the walls of Azkaban and dear Evangeline, so earnest on avoiding my return. Both the Pierce and Malfoy families stained with a sense of failure." A sense of mockery ascends into the air as small laughs of agreement creep echo against the marbled walls. A lump forms in my throat at the Dark Lord's sneers.

What he doesn't get is that it was never my mother that was all keen on the dark magic. She has her past that's for sure. But there's a reason only one of my parents died in Azkaban.

"It was never my intention to disrespect you, My Lord." My mother says sternly, surprising me with her assertive tone. A hush falls amongst the crowd as Voldemort's smile twists into a settled glare.

"Nevertheless, failure is not welcomed in our midst. A proposal of mine is going to be placed before you and I expect you to accept it, unless you prefer alternative means of paying for your missteps." Voldemort's voice turns sinister. Narcissa and my mother both tense at his words.

"Anything, My Lord." Narcissa speaks this time with her voice sounding choked and desperate.

"Narcissa, always eager to please." Voldemort spits. "Except it is your offspring that I require from the two of you."

"My Lord," my mother interrupts. I freeze seeing the obvious disgust spread across the Dark Lord's face. My mother clears her throat before continuing. "They're only children. They are no use to you as they've barely experienced the trials of life." It's then that I can hear the anguish in her plea.

My mother has only returned to You-Know-Who in recent years. After the Triwizard tournament disaster, I found her sneaking in and out of the doors to our home in the late hours of the night all summer. The naive part of soul begged for it to be a secret admirer of hers that she neglected to tell me about even though my father has been gone for years.

I had hoped that her past entwined so deeply with my father's beliefs had not caught up to her. Her involvement in the Order had spurred my hope until the front page of the Daily Prophet smashed that hope with a single sentence.

He was back and the faint outline of the Dark Mark on my mother's forearm that I used to trace over and over was no longer faint. Loyalty is what she explained to me the day after I'd returned from Hogwarts demanding answers about who had really attacked Harry at the Ministry of Magic.

And suddenly my parent's ugly past was becoming my future. Maybe my perfect imagination of the mother I knew was slowly being stripped before my eyes. The realization that her ties with Voldemort only ceased when he was first defeated worried me. I had always wondered why only my father was sent to Azkaban while she was left to go about her daily life as if nothing had happened. And while I grew up, I'd pushed away every rumor spread about me for years at Hogwarts.

Traitor. Death Eater. Cursed.

All that work only for it to be destroyed by the owl sent to our doorstep a week ago, detailing this meeting that required not only my mother but me. I did everything right. Practically betrayed my own house by befriending the most famous Gryffindors while keeping my head low at school for five years, only for me to come in my sixth, baring every rumor I fought so hard to disband.

How am I to explain to one of my best friends that I'm now part of the plot to kill him?

"Evangeline, they may be children in your eyes, but to me they are our source of success. No witch or wizard is ever too young to strive for greatness." Voldemort corrects. My mother seems to inwardly turn on herself as she nods in surrender.

"Of course, My Lord." She says with tears rimming her perfectly green eyes. Such a shame I ended up with my father's dark, hazel eyes that only show color in the sun. Half the time they just look dark.

"My children," Voldemort fans his hands across the air in front of him before his eyes focus on Malfoy and I. "I am requiring a task from the two of you. This task is a great honor that I am willing to let both of you work together to accomplish for the sake of your parent's reputations. You see, weakness seems to run in your families. For this reason, I am bestowing this honor on you two promising children as an incentive to correct the wrongs done by your parents. I require of you the task of killing Albus Dumbledore."

As soon as the words leave his lips, I feel like I've been punched in the stomach. All the air seems to escape my lungs as I sit there breathless, on the verge of tears, as the Dark Lord stares confidently at his followers. Hushed mumbles of confusion and intrigue scatter with worry settling in the hearts of both my mother and Narcissa. My mother's hand moves to clutch mine as her shaking grip tightens.

"This is a tremendous feat My Lord." It's Professor Snape that speaks first. "Are you sure you are to put your trust in the likes of individuals as young as Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Pierce?" He inquires.

"Do not question me Severus." Voldemort snaps. "I believe the children's urge to protect their own families should be enough to inspire their actions. I trust that your involvement with Hogwarts will give you the opportunity to guide their young minds or have you begun to lose your ways, Severus?" His tone turns cold as all eyes turn to Snape.

His casual demeanor barely flinches, never straying from his singular expression that I've never seen change in all my years at Hogwarts. "My Lord, it would be a great honor to watch after the children." Snape says in his even tone, settling the tension between him and the Dark Lord.

"And if they fail?" Narcissa is the next to speak, asking the very question that scratches the back of my mind. Voldemort looks between Malfoy and I as if he's contemplating what punishment would be suitable for not completing a task we never wanted.

"I believe you know the answer to your own question Narcissa. A life for a life." He says simply while I find myself go rigid. Malfoy noticeably straightens in his seat as Narcissa seems to visibly crumble before she settles for a nodding agreement with the Dark Lord's words.

"It seems we have an understanding." Voldemort continues. "However, verbal loyalty will not suffice. I require the willing participation of the Aurora and Draco to accept my Mark as a sign of loyalty to their task and to me."

"They will finish the task without the need of the Dark Mark, My Lord. It is a sacred symbol not meant for the likes of children." My mother rambles out quickly with pleading worry cracking her voice. Voldemort seems to bristle at her words as she interrupts once again.

"Do not tell me what I should consider sacred. They are to receive the Mark tonight although with some adjustments to ease your worries Evangeline. But do not question me again or I will strip you of your title in the Ministry and of the only family you have left." His eyes flash to me, silencing any further argument my mother was considering on making. I untuck one of my hands to place it over her trembling fingers as a silent promise that everything will be okay.

"Draco, Aurora, come closer." Voldemort says before he stands, causing everyone to follow suit. The chairs magically slide back as Malfoy and I share a concerned glance before I follow closely behind him towards the Dark Lord.

My heartbeat flutters into my ears with every step I take, feeling the ghost of my mother's grasp slowly fade until I'm standing before Voldemort himself. He looks at the two of us slowly before taking out his wand from his draped gown.

And as I stand before the darkest wizard of our generation, I can't help but feel glad that if I was to be doing this with anyone at least it's with someone familiar. This is the first time I've ever done anything with Malfoy. I'd always figured our first interaction would be entirely simple like a class project or something for our house. But as we stand here, side by side, stuck in the reaping of our families' betrayals, I wonder if he shares the same pit of worry forming in my mind or if his sudden confidence is all a charade.

And as he readies his left forearm and I follow his action, a sense of twisted competition starts to form between the two of us. Its Malfoy's grey eyes that are the last thing I register before Voldemort begins the start to our shared demise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! I plan on updating as fast as I can write. I've also uploaded this story to wattpad if you want to read it in that format (username: padfootsazkaban). Please leave any of your thoughts on the story and I'll see you at the next one!


	2. Mark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Here I opened wide the door; Darkness there, and nothing more.'
> 
> -Edgar Allan Poe

The Dark Lord has set my arm on fire.

Or at least that's what it feels like as the burning sensation numbs my extremities and sends shooting pain up my arm with every passing second. And yet, the only thought racing through my head is a small chant. _I will not cry. I will not cry._

I repeat it over and over, biting back the tears threatening to spill from my eyes that I have squeezed shut. The pain seems to dampen every other sense as I can barely register the words coming from Voldemort's mouth even with him standing just an arm's length away. 

I'm on the verge of seeing stars flash across my eyelids when the fiery pain subsides for only a moment. I risk cracking my eyes open to see Voldemort having lowered his wand. I glance quietly at Malfoy who seems just as breathless as I feel before I bring my gaze towards my arm, preparing for the inevitable.

My stomach twists in on itself as I see the winding ink of the Dark Mark on my arm, smoking as if it was brandished into my skin. It throbs as I stare at it, becoming almost mesmerized by its careful details that seem to dance if I focus on it too long. 

"A great honor." Voldemort's voice brings me back to reality. I look around at all the curious faces of the Death Eaters surrounding Malfoy and I before my eyes land on my mother. She doesn't look at all how I'd expect her to be. Her face is set in stone-cold boredom. It's the same look she has when she read the news. And it's her expression, or lack thereof, that fractures my heart. All that worry she showed earlier suddenly gone, and I'm beginning to feel like I've been sold to the devil. 

I pull my eyes away from my mother, finding no comfort in her while I subconsciously rub my forearm as if that will make the pain subside. Instead, I find myself looking back at Malfoy. He looks down at his arm in an almost entranced state, similar to my initial fascination. But I can see the concern in his features with his eyebrows pinched together and his eyes like a stormed ocean.

"I know the two of you will not disappoint." The Dark Lord assures even though his tone contorts his words into a warning. "This is the start to our path in victory, but we must not stray from our focus of cleansing the world. My loyal followers, as our newest members learn to acknowledge their bestowed honor, take to the cities, both magical and muggle alike. Make my presence known amongst them until no doubt remains about my return." At the ceasing of his words, several Death Eaters disapparate. One of them being Snape, but not before he looks between Malfoy and me. There's a second of what I would deem sympathy before he's gone.

The only remaining Death Eaters being my mother, Narcissa, Bellatrix Lestrange, and a few other stragglers that look hungry for a task. _By all means, take mine._

"Bellatrix, take the rest with you to bring me the particular wand maker I desire. Ollivander." Curiosity sparks at the mention of Ollivander, but it fades as quickly as it came. It's merely a second after the name is spoken before the rest disapparate, leaving only Malfoy and I with our only present guardians standing as still as the ornate statues I saw decorating the front entrance of his house.

Voldemort turns his attention back to us. The urge to turn away pulls at my instincts, but it will only do me good to continue acting complicit. "My young followers, you have a great journey ahead of you. I trust you will complete what I have asked in a timely manner. Remember the consequences I hold. Everyone is expendable." The Dark Lord waits for us to mumble thank you's in his presence before he takes one last looming stare at Narcissa and my mother. His lingering glare almost a threat in itself until he disapparates, taking his snake with him. The air suddenly feels lighter.

My mother suddenly rushes to my side once He's gone. Her bored expression from earlier completely melted away as worry creases every inch of her being. But I can barely acknowledge her as I draw my eyes to the Mark on my skin. Its dark ink behaving like a scar. My mother gently brushes her thumb over the sore surface, making me wince at the contact. Her green eyes look up to me, and I wonder if this is how I looked to her when I was little, tracing the same Mark with zero clue as to the danger it held. 

"Evangeline, a word." Narcissa's broken voice speaks out, grabbing my mother's attention. With only a nod, the two women step aside, moving down to the farther end of the now empty black table, leaving only me, Malfoy, and our shared death wish.

There's a brief moment of silence between us. It's almost as if we're still trying to catch our breath now that the Dark Lord is gone for now. But it's Malfoy that speaks first.

"Does yours hurt?" I'm surprised at the sudden question from the silver-haired boy. His grey eyes filled with curiosity as he looks between our two Marks. I nod my head. Malfoy's mouth quirks to the side in a smirk and for a minute I worry that I'm on a murder mission with someone crazy, but Malfoy lets a small laugh escape before looking up at me.

"Families suck." He says simply. And suddenly I'm laughing. The brief release of tension and nerves causing me to feel insane as I'm literally on track to kill someone. And yet, I'm laughing with a boy a barely know, wondering how the hell we're going make it out of this alive. 

Our subtle laughter subsides as the silence begins to rise once again. "I'm sorry about your father." I say to him as the topic of families floods my thoughts. Malfoy's features drop for only a second before he shrugs. 

"We're going to try and get him out soon." He says quietly, glancing to his preoccupied mother as if it's a secret he's not supposed be sharing. "Your mum," He starts. "She's rather brave. I haven't seen someone talk back to the Dark Lord like that at any of these meetings." Malfoy states, changing the subject as I look to my own mother, a sense of pride blossoming in my chest. 

"She's stubborn." I correct for the sake of everything that woman has put me through in recent years. 

"She's an Auror right?" Malfoy asks in casual interest. I nod, which only causes Malfoy to let an amused laugh slip again. "Aurora, daughter of an Auror." He smirks.

My eyes go wide before I'm crossing my arms over my chest in defense. "Well, the name Draco isn't all that great either." I try and fire back, but my voice comes out strained as I'm not used to talking with someone like Malfoy. Someone intimidating with a sort of mysterious past that no one has been able to crack. It's all sorts of strange with how casual he's being.

"Then stick to calling me Malfoy." He says before he offers his hand in a joking manner. The same one with the Dark Mark inked just above. 

I take his hand in a firm shake, almost like we're sealing the deal to whatever hell we've both fallen into. "Pierce." I say, hoping we can make a habit out of last names. I'm not willing to think about his little Auror joke every time he says my first name.

"What do you think they're talking about?" I gesture over to our mothers, both hunched in towards each other, hastily whispering just quietly enough so Malfoy and I can't hear a word.

He follows my gaze, and I can almost pick out the brief moment of sympathy that flashes across his face when his eyes land on Narcissa. I have zero clue as to what Malfoy's parents are like aside from the brief whispers shared at school. They were usually fearful rumors that only made the family seem colder and more intimidating than they really are. I'm still deciding if I want to continue in believing those rumors to be true. Although, their almost entirely marble house would most likely agree with our classmates.

"Probably how to stop both of us from being killed." Malfoy says bluntly. I frown at his words, wishing they wasn't any possible truth to them. I've never not wanted to go back to Hogwarts. The feeling is rather alarming when you feel like you've suddenly lost the one place that's always felt like a safe haven to you. 

I want to be naive and say that there's no possible way we're at any risk of dying. But I have zero desire to kill Dumbledore, which essentially means I've just hammered in the first nail to my coffin. I'm not entirely sure how Malfoy feels. My swayed perception of him has probably corrupted me into thinking that he's presumably keen on the idea although, I doubt he would really want to kill Dumbledore either. At least I hope he doesn't.

"I don't want to kill anyone." I admit out loud, keeping my voice low as I look down at my hands. I secretly hope that maybe admitting it will at least affirm that I'm not a bad person. I don't want this. But as I remember my mother's troubled eyes glossed with tears, the thought of her being killed worries me more. 

Something changes in Malfoy, however. His eyes seem to darken as he looks directly at me. "I'm not going to let you get me and my family killed" He says firmly, surprising me with the force of his voice as I take a small step back. The humor from only a few moments earlier suddenly gone.

I feel myself try to fumble for words to tell him I was only partially kidding. I obviously don't want my family, or his family killed either. "Malfoy, I was only-"

"We finish the job. No matter what." He interrupts, although his voice is no longer as bold as before. There's a minor shake in his confidence that relieves me of my sudden anxiety as I give an agreeing nod, desperate to just change the topic. 

We stay quiet for a moment, letting the change in energy between us slowly subside. "I was surprised to see Snape." I force myself to keep talking the Malfoy, unable to bear the silence as it only makes me think of what's to come. Thousands of scenarios swirl around the single thought about killing Dumbledore, and it makes me sick to my stomach. 

Malfoy has his gaze down with his mind seeming miles away. I can't blame him. "He's been back with the Dark Lord for some time." He says plainly. "Although, I don't think he's entirely trusted." The minor bit of information piques my interest.

I had always believed there was something more to Snape. After being friends with a bunch of Gryffindors for a while, it's hard not believe that Snape isn't biased towards particular students or sides. Hell, he's hit my friends over the head with a book more times than I can count. But I'd always hoped that there was still something good about the professor. Slytherin always gets a bad rep and half the time I thought Snape was one of the few adding fuel to the flame in that common belief. I guess he turned out to be exactly as everyone had expected. And I suppose the same can be said for myself.

"Do you think the Dark Lord trusts us?" Curiosity overtakes my words as I ask the question. Malfoy finally meets my eyes again, and I feel relieved at the grey light having returned to his eyes as opposed to the mess of shadows from earlier.

Malfoy sighs like he's thought of the question before. "I never know what He's thinking." He admits. I'm only noticing now how tired he looks. Dark circles stand out against his paler features, making him look older than he really is. It makes me wonder how many times Voldemort has twisted his life like he has now. It would take a toll on anyone. "But you should know something." 

His words come out as a soft whisper, while his features dim with seriousness once again. "The Dark Lord is many things, but he always keeps his word."

I don't have to ask more to get at what Malfoy is suggesting. The threat on our lives hangs like an enormous cloud above our heads, ready to strike us dead with lighting at any moment. 

I'm out of questions to ask him. The warning putting an end to any sense of a good mood I had been trying to hold onto. The only noise being the soft murmur of our mother's voices echoing throughout the empty room.

"Would you agree to _not_ using an Unforgivable Curse?"

The sudden question steals the air from my lungs. Malfoy stays entirely serious, only stripping me of my ignorance towards actually having to go through with this. The sheer boldness of his question and how alarmingly calm he's being reminds of his father. Everyone in Slytherin house knows the infamous Lucius Malfoy. Although, in recent years his fame has sort of dwindled to borderline mockery, I remember a time when his name alone would be enough to gather a crowd. Whether people wanted connections, money, or had the sneaking interest in the life of a suppose ex-Death Eater, Lucius was always someone I feared. And that's exactly how I'm starting to feel towards Malfoy now. 

I suppose you don't even have to like Dumbledore, but I don't think anyone would want the man dead. The idea of killing someone is a lot for a person to process when they've never once thought about killing anyone. No matter how much I've hated an individual, I never once thought about crossing that line. And with how straightforward Malfoy is being about all this, I wonder if he's ever dared to dance along that wire.

"Don't look so concerned Pierce and answer the question." Malfoy snaps, seeming impatient as I revel with the idea that I'm going to be a murderer. I swallow the bile rising in my throat, hoping the ability to even talk about this subject will get easier with time.

"We're not using an Unforgivable Curse." I say, to which Malfoy nods in agreement. The thought of actually having to look into Dumbledore's eyes before even saying the horrific spell already makes my skin crawl. If I ever had to do it, I know it would ruin me. "There's other ways." I say, hoping that Malfoy's corrupted mind has some ideas because I absolutely have none.

The boy shrugs his shoulders as he thinks for a moment. "We'll talk about it more as the year goes on. I don't intend on doing this within the first month we're back." He says. I'm thoroughly agreeing with him on that one. I can't imagine going an entire year at school after having killed our headmaster only to act as if everything is normal. Probably would end up launching myself right off the astronomy tower. 

Besides, I still need a little longer to figure out how I'm supposed to go about the school year in general. My friends being my primary worry at the moment. I can get around hiding and being insignificant in my own house. I've done it for five years, what's another? But I swear, Harry, Ron, and Hermione always find a way to discover things that are usually meant to be kept hidden. The idea of lying to them is another thing I'm going to have to practice. Always been a shit liar. 

And this fucking Dark Mark is going to make me wear sweaters in early September. As if that's not suspicious at all. Might as well just live in our school uniform to hide it away.

"What are we to do after it's done?" I ask as I attempt to distract myself from the spiral of panic I'm about to fall into.

"We need to get some of the other Death Eaters into Hogwarts to confirm it all I suppose. Although, I'm not sure how we're going to go about doing that since your friend Potter sent the entire magical world into a panic last school year." Malfoy says, clearly annoyed as he spits out Harry's last name with his usual emphasis that always shows obvious disgust. I roll my eyes, making a mental note to never bring up Harry or the others around him. I'll gouge my ears out if I have to hear Malfoy complain about them. 

"It's not just Harry." I defend. "You heard what the Dark Lord said. He wants his presence known. Things have shifted. You may be all wrapped up in this world, but on the other side I could tell all summer that something bad was about to happen." Malfoy smirks, crossing his arms over his fitted, black button down. The sleeves are still rolled up, showing the edge of our matching Marks with the color just as dark as the fabric directly above it.

"Well, now you're wrapped up in this world too. But I wouldn't put it past you to accidentally spill our little secret to those Gryffindor friends of yours. I can't imagine being a traitor on both sides." Malfoy's teases with his smirk suddenly turned malicious. His words feel like a slap across the face. _Traitor._

The term alone has me wondering how my friends would react. How do you tell people who have only ever accepted you as you are that you're becoming the very thing that has actively tried to attack them from the start? Ever since we were first years, the term traitor was intertwined with Death Eater until both were spit out like a dirty insult. 

The relentless bullying from my classmates about my parents had me crying after every harsh whisper in my first few years at Hogwarts until I learned to have a thicker skin. But at the time, I'd just lost my father a year before I had even set foot in Hogwarts for the first time. My emotions were a confused mess built on zero coping skills. 

My father wasn't a good man by any means, but he was still my parent. And yet, it feels wrong to miss him because of what he'd done throughout his life. Six years later and I sometimes forget what it felt like to have him in my life. I wonder if he would be proud of me now that I have the same symbol that dragged him to his grave.

"I'll keep them in the dark." I mumble, feeling small from Malfoy's sudden insult towards me and my friends. 

"And I'll worry about our little issue regarding Hogwart's security." Malfoy says slyly. That smirk still spread wide on his face. So I am on a suicide mission with a crazy person. 

"Aurora, it's time to leave." My mother's voice interrupts our conversation. Her and Narcissa look more worn than when they had started talking. I wonder what secrets they shared as Malfoy and I played how to kill someone. 

I give her a short nod before I turn back to Malfoy. The start to the school year is merely a week away. I bet he will have come up with a small list of how we're going to kill Dumbledore by the time we board the train. "See you in a week Malfoy." I say awkwardly, unsure of my new partnership with the boy I've only just officially met. 

"In a week Pierce." He repeats. Narcissa is beside him now as my mother comes up to my side. There's a shared glance of understanding between the two women before we go our separate ways.

And as I'm following my mother down the marbled stairs, having just dried off only to go directly back out into the thunderstorm still looming over Malfoy Manor, I feel a sinking pull in my chest at the task I've just been bound to. 

I have to kill Dumbledore, or the Dark Lord is going to kill me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thank you to everyone who has read the first part.  
> This story is updated on wattpad as well :) (padfootsazkaban)  
> See you at the next one!


	3. Burrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'I am terrified by this dark thing that sleeps in me.'
> 
> -Sylvia Plath

I've always liked the Weasley's house more than my own.

The crackle of the fireplace warms my toes as I tug at the frayed ends of my sweater's sleeves, rolling the sea-foam green thread between my fingers. It was wildly hot today, but I made sure to slip on something that was long-sleeved before my mother and I arrived. And now with night having fallen, I sit alone in a house that isn't mine, listening to the mixing sound of the fireplace and the harsh words being shared between the Weasleys and my mother. 

"It's entirely too dangerous but the kids must get an education." Molly Weasley whispers from the kitchen. They've been going at it for an hour now. My mother was only supposed to drop me off so I could tag along with my friends at Diagon Alley tomorrow before we headed off to Hogwarts the following day. It's been a sort of tradition we've built over the years. But then the parents got to talking after dinner was through and feeling entirely anti-social at the moment, I can't help but eavesdrop as I take advantage of my mother's overstayed welcome. 

"Molly and I have been worried. They're rather brave, always getting into trouble, but then again, I'd say they're in good hands considering what happened to me earlier this year." Arthur says quietly. I remember when Hermione had explained to me the day before the start to the holiday about what had happened to Mr. Weasley. She had said that Harry seemed off, but at least Mr. Weasley was alright. Scared all of us, especially Ron for obvious reasons.

"Hogwarts is the best option." I recognize my mother's voice. Things have been weird between us since Malfoy Manor. For moments, she seems like her normal self until her eyes catch a glimpse of my new Dark Mark. It got so bad that I made it a habit to start wearing sweaters in my own house. I'll be happy enough just to get some privacy at Hogwarts, although I'm still figuring out how I'm going to go about hiding the Mark from my dorm mates.

My mother is doing a better job at disguising her worry in front of the Weasleys with their obvious distrust of the future evident in their concerned words. They only know half the story and yet, I overheard Ron mention that they almost pulled the rest of them out of Hogwarts before the school years even started. I don't think my mother could even pull me from school if she wanted to. Her life is in danger just as much as mine.

"Need company?" I move my burning eyes away from staring in the fire to look up at Ginny. She's already moving to sit beside me before I've even said anything. "Everything alright? You've been quiet since you got here. Ron and Hermione noticed at dinner and wondered if something's happened. We've barely seen or heard from you all summer." 

The summer. The months were my world creased and folded until it lost its unblemished complexion forever. The months I discovered my mother is still the same traitor she's always been. The months I lost myself. Hell, the day I lost my future was only a week ago. It's an ugly shadow that taps on my shoulder continuously whenever I think of rolling up my sleeves or talk about His return. Because I'm a part of it and not in the way anyone would desire. I'm the crumbling human under a world of burden. And it's catching up, even though we've hardly begun.

"You just seem a world's away Rory." My ever-familiar nickname brings my full attention to Ginny. Her freckles like a frame around a smile that never seems to fade. Dean's rather lucky. 

"Issues with my mum." That's the excuse I decide to toss out. It's not entirely false, still evidently true at the lack of conversation exchanged between us this past week, but it's not the whole story.

And yet, Ginny remains sympathetic. She wraps an arm around my shoulder, pulling me in for a partial hug as we both go to staring into the fire. "I know what you mean." She says softly. No, Ginny. I don't think you do. "Mum's been crazy this past month. All she talks about is You-Know-Who and the threat on our lives." I nod, pretending I relate. I wish my mother was like that. Common and worried like every other seemingly traditional parent. But no, mine made me a Death Eater for life. Cheers.

"She's being normal." I affirm because the statement is rather true. 

Ginny blows out a sigh like she wishes things were different and that none of us were scared to go back to the place that everyone once deemed the safest. I'd say it's safe to believe Harry began to ruin that idea the moment he stepped foot inside the castle. Not willingly of course.

"Are you sure you're alr-" Ginny's question is interrupted by the screech of an owl. An owl that belongs to none of us. We're both on our feet before another noise can erupt from the empty dining room.

Ginny and I turn the corner to see a stack of trunks embroidered with H.P. and a cage with a white owl. "Harry." We both exclaim breathlessly, on the verge of excitement at the sudden showing of our missing puzzle piece. But there's an entirely new problem. His things are here but Harry isn't. 

"Mum!" Ginny peels away from me, and I can hear her asking when Harry had arrived. Molly is probably as clueless as we are considering her attention was devoted to my mother's easing words about the safety of our world. I wonder how they would react if they knew the secret etched into her forearm under that clock of hers that's much too warm for this weather.

How the woman learned to cope with all this secrecy is beyond me. I've slowly felt myself become numb to everything as I've been simultaneously loosening my grip on reality. The only constant reminder, the only feeling, being that of my forearm whenever there's a sudden brush of pain that shoots up my arm. Or when it just feels itchy. I don't know how else to describe it, but I swear I sometimes have the urge to try and scratch the Mark right off my skin. And I've settled with the realization that I wouldn't care if it left a bloody mess. As long as I was free from it. 

"Did someone say Harry?" Ron's head peaks out at the bottom of the staircase with Hermione only a few steps above, both washed with curious wonder as I turn back to them.

"His stuff's here." I say plainly as if the two can't use their eyes. Ginny's right. I feel worlds away. Too out of place as if it was never apparent that I'd lost my original position to begin with. I won't last a month at school if I can't pull myself back to being present. 

_I wonder how Malfoy is coping._

My thoughts freeze. Never once has he ever drifted through my subconscious unless it was to agree with an insult against him. Another thing I suppose I'll have to get used to. All this, all against my own will. 

It's only another moment before the front door clicks open and a mess of black hair peaks through. "Harry!" Hermione and Ron rush towards him with open arms and flying questions. I'd usually join but it all feels wrong. To hug your friend when you're risking their life. To be in their home when you're a part of the people working on taking it all away. 

I feel sick all the time as of late. Woefully and horribly sick. Because for the first time the threat is no longer looming over me. It's in me, waiting. Waiting to grow a pair. Waiting to be better at lying. Waiting for the blond bastard to do most of the work. 

"When did you know you were coming?" Molly Weasley's caramel voice lilts through the excitement of the house. And I stay on the edge of the happy reunion, watching it all happen from afar. 

That is until a hand is placed at the small of my back, and I look up into the shining green eyes of my mother. But they're stern. She smooths my black hair while I straighten my spine just as she leans down, creating a space only audible between the two of us. "Stop acting strange." She orders harshly. I glance up at her momentarily, feeling my face twist into disgust. I wouldn't be acting so fucking strange if I hadn't been thrown into the grasp of You-Know-Who. 

Even using that name feels unnatural now in comparison to the chosen 'Dark Lord' title. I'm losing my mind.

"Now go and say hello to Potter." My mother gently pushes me forward and I stumble briefly until I can slip through the gathering to give Harry a brief hug. Luckily, I can maneuver back to the edge as Molly fires off questions left and right while Harry explains how he wound up at their doorstep. 

"Dumbledore." He says the name as his answer, and I can't help but feel my heart suddenly constrict. The itching on my arm more present than it's been all night as I tightly cross my arms to distract myself before looking down at the handmade rug below my bear feet. 

"Oh, that man!" Molly trills as everyone laughs. I force a smile to be anything but _strange_ , being sure to look back at my mother for a single nod of approval before I go back to admiring the joy of my friends. I think I'll lighten up when my mother's out of the house. Her face is more of a dreadful reminder rather than anything comforting. Her face, it's begun to look different to me in this past week. No longer is it the face of a mother as I feel so utterly detached from that type of relationship I might as well stick to calling her Evangeline. It's strange to feel like you're without a parent figure when they're standing right beside you. 

But perhaps it's all for the better. I'm not sure I'd want to stay connected to someone that's going to be proud of what I've done after this year. 

Molly worries over Harry for another moment as the others help him put his stuff aside, out of the way of the front door. The atmosphere feels brighter at Harry's unexpected appearance. Ron and Hermione were expecting to see him for the first time since the end of last school year only when we arrived at the train to Hogwarts, letting him take all the time he needs in solitude after what happened to Sirius. I guess Dumbledore had other plans.

As I let everyone catch up, I step back in line beside my mo- Evangeline, wondering if she has any further words of encouragement before I set off to Hogwarts. "So, this is it." I whisper, wanting so badly for her to respond in sentiments of me leaving for my sixth year, not in hopes I murder someone by the end of it. 

"Do what you can Aurora." She starts, which surprises me. I half expected her to threaten me to get it done by holiday. "The Dark Lord has given you time, but it is precious. Keep your friends at bay, let them focus on their trivial studies. What you have been asked to do does not concern them. And the sooner you learn to separate the two parties, the better you'll get along." My arms press tighter against my chest, feeling a pang of guilt streak through me at the suggestion of abandoning the people who know and care for me more than she ever has.

"It will be weird if I avoid them all year." I say, feeling exhausted about all the mental prep I've been having to grapple with this week. Evangeline rolls her eyes, apparently frustrated that I'm not understanding what she's trying to tell me.

"Don't avoid entirely but keep at a distance." She repeats as if those two things are hardly different to one another. "I swear, you're entirely too much like your father. Always with the wrong crowd. It might do you good to spend some time in your own house for once. Play nice with the Malfoy boy." I scoff at the last bit, doing my best to ignore her initial comparison. My father is the last person I want to be compared to. His eyes are the only thing I share with him and perhaps my mother's dark features like her long, black hair and terrible under eye bags are the only thing I share with her. The only evidence of our familial connection with the rest ruined by bad decisions. Speaking of bad decisions, I'd rather get run over by the train to Hogwarts than play nice with Malfoy. Has anyone ever played nice with Malfoy? Has he ever let anyone get close enough? Play nice. As if.

You play nice when you're trying to be friends with someone. I have no plans to be friends with Malfoy. He can go along and do whatever the hell he wants as long as he doesn't dig my grave alongside his. 

"I'll be at Hogwarts when you get there." Evangeline keeps talking to fill my silence. 

"What for?" I ask, curiously wondering if this is something I should know in regards to the security issue Malfoy was getting at a week ago.

"They're having some people of the Ministry add extra precautions at Hogwarts. A sort of extra gate if you want to call it that. It's enough to ease Molly's worries so I'd keep that in mind if I were you." It's all business when she talks. But it's clearly information that I'm supposed to acknowledge so I file it away later, hoping Malfoy will be able to put it to some use. 

"If that's all, I suppose I'll see you then." I say, to which she nods. And that's it. No further goodbye. The interaction feeling rather ill-suited and awkward. She leaves me to join my friends as they climb the stairs of the Weasley's Burrow. But not before her emerald eyes flash in stern forewarning once more before she's out the front door. 

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I scatter our things through the space we are sharing tonight. It's a tight fit, but I don't mind curling up in the corner as long as they all sleep well. We gather in a circle as Hermione crumples a sheet of the Daily Prophet before setting it ablaze. " _Incendio."_

There's a small flame that blooms from the levitating paper, but not before it dulls, slowly smoldering the words until they drift away as ash. I catch myself trying to read the sentences before they're burned away, but it only brings me grief as I scan the section confirming the sentencing of Lucius Malfoy. It's enough to make me pull my eyes away before they find comfort in staring out into the blackness of the field surrounding the Burrow. 

"When did you all get here?" Harry is the first to spark conversation as meaningless phrases shared between us die down. 

"A few days ago." Hermione says. 

"This morning." I add.

Harry nods as Hermione lets out a sigh of worry. "Although, I wasn't sure I was going to come." All eyes turn to her as she continues to explain the same precaution set in the hearts of every magical family on their way to Hogwarts in two days. "Somethings gone wrong. This whole summer..." She starts, only to let her words fade as we all nod in understanding.

Ron adds the same story that Ginny had told me by the fire. How Molly's gone mad when in fact she really hasn't. But oddly enough, Harry seems to push in agreement with Ron. "Why wouldn't she think Hogwarts is safe?" He inquires even though the answer really lies within himself. But I can truly understand why he feels the need to defend Hogwarts' honor. It's given him more than just a home and I can at least resonate with that. 

"My mother's working with the Ministry to make Hogwarts safer." I say quietly, working my way to being perfectly normal amongst my friends. "A sort of effort to ease the families concerns."

"Last time the Ministry got involved we ended up with the pink loony though." Ron says, which makes all of us smirk at the memory of Umbridge. I always wished they'd never retrieved her from the centaurs, knowing they'd at least give her a fate she deserved.

"Trust me, no Umbridge this time. It's an extra gate is what my mum is calling it. I guess they're going to just tighten the security but everything inside the walls of the school should be as normal as ever." I fight to bring humor into my voice, knowing that the inside of Hogwarts was going to be anything but safe this year. But they seem to take the explanation, nodding in assurance before we all go back to staring that the little ball of flames in the middle of our circle, having essentially engulfed the newspaper it had initially latched onto. 

"We also have Dumbledore." Harry says suddenly. And there it is. That constricting anxiety that has me clenching my jaw and forcing my gaze forward to avoid eye contact with any of them out of fear of them learning my secret from just a single look. 

"Harry, Dumbledore can only do so much." Hermione starts. This catches my attention. I know the Ministry has dragged the man's name through the pages of their lying newspaper, but I didn't realize mistrust had reached the ears of his students. Harry looks at her curiously, ready to open his mouth to once again defend something dear to him only for Ron to add onto Hermione's thought.

"He's getting old mate. And like Rory said, the Ministry is pulling all the strings behind the curtains anyways." Harry's face contorts with disbelief, rolling his eyes as he crumples another sheet of paper to preserve our fire. 

"Dumbledore isn't old." Harry grumbles, but I can tell he doesn't really believe his words. The lack of confidence in his voice being the first tell. 

"Does anyone know his actual age?" I ask. It feels strange to have a single word in any conversation related to Dumbledore given my circumstances. Knowing his age isn't going to make my job any easier. It doesn't matter if he's old, he still deserves to live out the rest of his life without interference.

Hermione and Harry shrug, but Ron, dear Ron, feeding off his older brother's habit to always bring jokes into a serious setting decides to toss out an unassuming guess. "I bet the old man's nearing two centuries." And even though Ron honestly might not be far from wrong, it's the easing release of his response without missing a beat that sends a gentle laugh between the four of us. 

And it's that sense of joy that carries on through the rest of the night. Like a blanket that warms us until eyes droop with tired expressions, enough to lull everyone to sleep. Well, not everyone. 

A steady stream of wind causes whispers of creaks throughout the house. The noise being the only sound intermingling with Ron's snores from the other end of the room. I stay still, lying by the window, tracing the creases in my blanket illuminated by the moonlight filtering in. The hours tick by and I feel no less tired than I did when our light was first put out.

The wind helps though. The breeze sending aches throughout the Burrow, swooshing in between the cracks of the home, making it seem like its swaying with the tall grass outside. The sound is enough to make my eyelids blink slower with every creaking noise, but it doesn't last. Suddenly, my vision to practically go white.

I bolt up in my sleep, physically biting into my bottom lip to stop myself from screaming as I shove the sleeve to my sweater up my arm. The metallic taste of blood enters the back of my throat. I make sure to turn away from the others as I whimper as quietly as possible, watching the snake dance through the skull and darken just as it did the night I got it. The pain feels just as horrible from that day too. 

It hasn't hurt this bad since, and I'm beginning to worry the Dark Lord is calling, but within a few seconds the pain subsides, fading to a throb as my nerves struggle to recover from the panic. I hope it isn't always like this. I can't imagine randomly having to rip off my robe in the middle of Hogwarts' halls in a panic that my arm is being carved into. The sudden feeling has caught me so off guard that I'm sure, given enough incidents, I'll end up being traumatized by anything that feels remotely like it, always waiting for that deep anguish to call me to death. 

Its burn is barely distinguishable at this point after a few more moments of suffered breathing. I have the collar of my sweater raised as an extra precaution, hoping the fabric muffles any sound. I glance back briefly at my friends to see only Ron having rolled over at the noise before he resumes his snores. I suppose after years of sleeping near Harry, he may have gotten used to random noises in the night with all the sleep talking and such. Hermione and Harry have barely moved, their bodies still in a steady rhythm of sleep that hasn't broken. 

I release one last breath as I curl up my legs to my chest and resume my stares out the window. My opposite hand subconsciously rubs the fabric over the Dark Mark, easing out the pain until it's gone. I give up on sleep at that point, afraid I'll be caught off guard again and not be prepared enough to stifle the sounds. 

I wonder who was called. I wonder what He's planning. It all flies through my head as I let my thoughts run in the silence of the late night, allowing it to marinate and corrupt my mind as I convince myself this is how I need to start thinking. The rewiring of my brain being the only thing I can bring myself to cooperate with. It's a small step towards my downfall, thinking as a Death Eater would. Seeming interested and curious with the whereabouts and actions of the Dark Lord. It's vulgar and unfamiliar. It's fully wrong having these thoughts in the same room as those sleeping beside me. 

And as the moon falls and the sun breaks on the horizon, my eyes having never fully closed, and my mind never having fully quieted, my thoughts end at the least desirable destination. Malfoy.

I begin to wonder if he shared the same reaction I did or if he's already better at managing it. I speculate whether he questions everything about himself at the mention of Dumbledore's name or if it only inspires him to think about our task. And then there's the peculiar notion that finds its way through all the speculation.

Through it all, I hope he shares my pain. And I hope it burns him just as badly. Because if he hurts just as much as I do, then I can rely on the comfort that I'm not so hopelessly alone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also updated on wattpad! (username: Padfootsazkaban)


	4. Furniture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'I can't exactly describe how I feel but It's not quite right; and it leaves me cold.'
> 
> -F. Scott Fitzgerald

Love potions.

That's what Hermione, Ginny, and I are tinkering with this bleak morning. Noise surrounds us entirely, from the familiar, mocking shrills of _pink loonies_ to the chatter of young witches and wizards fascinated by every piece of merchandise on full display in Fred and George's joke shop. It's all rather fitting if I think about it enough. Spending the last true day of summer wrapped in smiles and potions and tricks.

The only thing dampening my mood is the lack of sleep still attempting to catch up to me. Gave Molly a heart attack this morning when she came down to make breakfast, and I was already in the kitchen, sipping on coffee, feeling suddenly embarrassed that I'd even helped myself to any of the Weasley's food. But Molly being Molly, brushed it off, said she didn't mind at all because it saved her the commotion of having to make the coffee herself. 

Besides my guilt, I feel brighter today. For the first time in a while. It's refreshing and warm and I hope it never escapes me. My arm still stings slightly, with the acknowledgement of my Mark only physically notifying me whenever I give thought to it. So I'm busying my head with love potions.

Fred and George had already come over to tease, making a point of acknowledging Ginny's current fling, Dean Thomas, and then wiggling their identical eyebrows at Hermione and I, wondering what we could possibly want with love potions. I only came over to the display because I thought it was pretty. But Hermione, she's quieter, more observant, and I don't miss the blush that stains the tips of her ears when Cormac catches her eye from across the shop. She hastily grabs my hand and drags me away from the potions, making me almost drop one of them as she guides me away to find Harry and Ron. Imagine the disaster if one of those little vials had shattered. Love, such a horrific bother.

We find Harry first, looking over a pile of blackened rocks. Peruvian instant darkness powder is what the twins call it. "Harry, where's Ron?" Hermione interrupts the conversation. Harry only shrugs before curiously turning back to the rocks. My eyes linger on him for a while longer as Hermione drags me away again. He has one of the rocks in his hands when we turn the corner.

Ron's found his older brothers and the three are arguing over pricing. I stifle a giggle at their family dynamics on full display as Ron grumbles to Hermione and I that he wants to leave. Harry appears at our side suddenly, hands in his pocket, nodding in agreement.

We stumble out of the shop into the quiet streets of Diagon Alley. I can't ever remember a time it was this quiet. Too silent. Too dark. The others feel it too. Our moods simultaneously dampening at the uncrowded streets as parchment dusts our shoes while it tumbles with the wind.

"It's a good thing what Fred and George have going." I say, glancing back over to their shop. It's the only bright building on the street, and I want so badly to go back inside and forget about what the worlds is really like. Let the atmosphere trick me and keep me in a blissful state of ignorance. But Harry, Hermione, and Ron are walking now. 

"They reckon everyone needs a good laugh these days." Ron fights to keep his voice cheerful but it falters a little at the mention of _these days_. 

Hermione lays an arm on Ron's shoulders, twisting her face into a comforting smile. "And they're doing a very good job." She assures in an attempt to lighten the mood. But it's hard as our shoes scuff against the dirtied cobblestone. The sound of laughter dying out as we get further away from the joke shop.

Our conversation dies out as the lighting dims in Diagon Alley. And that's when we see it. Ollivanders. Shattered windows, stripped curtains, bent wand boxes. There's that sick feeling again. In the bottom of my stomach, working its way up as I screw my mouth shut.

Glass crunches beneath our feet as Hermione wonders out loud where people are to get their wands now. Everyone goes to Ollivanders. I'm sure if I closed my eyes and thought hard, I could imagine the golden light streaming out from the windows, and I could possibly still feel the nervous flutter in my heart when I finally felt I'd found the right wand. It seems heavy in my pocket now, with its black stem and silver cracks at the handle. I'd always thought it looked somewhat like lightning. Like Harry's scar. It was the first joke I tried on him and our little First Year minds thought it was funny.

But the windows are no longer illuminated. And there's no flutter in my chest, just that same constricting feeling that's going to make my heart die out one day. Because I know. I know where Ollivander is. I know what happened. I was there when the orders were given and it's horrible that I'm even wandering through the remains of the shop this instant. The skeleton of a once whole body as the Death Eaters made good work of destroying its bones after they took the shop's owner. 

"Don't suppose anyone would know why they'd want Ollivander?" Ron asks the question, and I half turn, dusting my fingers over snapped wands, doing my best to stay quiet. Stay calm. Be normal.

"Voldemort always has a purpose for what he does." Harry's voice turns sour, darkens, and I can't help but bristle at the drop of the Dark Lord's true name. The name setting off a brief twitch of pain in my arm, making me clasp my opposite hand over the secret, stifling it as if it can scream at the mention of His name. 

They all stay quiet for a moment, tending to the mess of Ollivander's shop. Picking up shards of glass here, pushing aside a broken box there, letting the silence bring us to terms with our current reality. A reality set in fear.

But I welcome the silence almost like a punishment. Welcoming its cold grasp as it rips the happiness from me and fills me up with shame instead. I suppose I should get used to the feeling, knowing how long it'll last. Until death, of course.

"Harry." Hermione's voice is steady and quiet, making us all turn to her. But her eyes look beyond us. Instead, gazing out one of the shattered windows. I follow her eyes out of curiosity, but instantly regret it when they land on a particular mess of blond hair that I haven't seen for a week. 

Malfoy stands with Narcissa, much as he did when I'd left him in his marble house, glancing over his shoulder before he's hurried along by his mother's quickened pace. "Someone looks like they don't want to be followed." Ron mumbles. And it only takes another second before Harry's slipping out the front door. 

I stay still, frozen, feeling my world slowly start to unravel. Because the Malfoys did look like they wanted to be kept hidden, which means they're up to something. And there's only one thing that's on their mind. It's on my mind too. 

"W-Wait." I can barely get the word out just as Hermione is the last to follow after Harry. I rip my feet from their frozen stance, shoving my worry aside as I chase in silence. We wind deeper into the street, losing all sense of joy left in Diagon Alley as we turn into Knockturn Alley, which seems far more fitting for the Malfoys anyways. 

My footsteps seem to echo off the cobblestone as I whisper harsh pleadings for my friends to slow down. But it's as if something's snapped within Harry as he basically chases after the Malfoys, staying close to the shadows of the emerging buildings, peaking around corners as if he's a bloody spy. And with every clambering step, my heart leaps further up my throat, and I feel like I'm choking. Absolutely choked with worry.

And it doesn't fade. It continues to hammer as we dive further into Knockturn Alley. Yet, even with all my panic, I still have some rational speculation about what Malfoy is up to. And more importantly, the fact I haven't a single clue is what worries me. Because if it has any relation to our fucking task, I will lose it on the blond idiot. 

It's when Harry falters to a stop that I basically run into the back of Ron, who looks at me curiously with confusion, rubbing his arm as if I'd just punched him. I mumble sorry before we all go back to looking at the black figures of the Malfoys that glance once more over their shoulders before going into... well, going into an antique furniture shop. 

Suddenly, my shoulders are relaxing and a feel a laugh push away the humming beat of my pulse because how can furniture be deadly?

Perhaps Malfoy requires new things for his probably expensively furnished room at Hogwarts. Maybe a new nightstand because the ones provided aren't nearly good enough. Or many they want another bloody chair to decorate their unreasonably cold house. I come up with hundreds of possibilities and all of them are entirely better than where my thoughts were mere seconds ago. Because unless Malfoy expects me to beat Dumbledore over the head with a chair, I can relax.

But Harry's not as convinced as I am apparently, as he wanders out into the street, moving to slip behind the building sat beside Borgin and Burkes. And suddenly I'm not the only one losing it because Harry is climbing the side of the fucking building. He uses a windowsill and his height to his advantage as he pulls himself up to the splintered shingles of the abandoned building. Ron and Hermione follow wordlessly, likely letting curiosity take over their better judgement. 

It's Ron's hushed, "Hurry up Aurora," that makes me finally take to the windowsill. I grumble that it's just a silly antique shop as I climb the same path, reaching for Ron's arm as he helps pull me up onto the roof. Damn all Gryffindors and their brave ambitions.

The broken panels on the building's dilapidated ceiling dig into my knees while we crawl closer to the peak. Harry being the first to find the perfect angle that looks directly into a window to continue his spying on the Malfoys.

I'm the last to reach the top, which is probably for the best because I almost fall at what I see. The back of the Death Eater Greyback's matted hair stands at the crescent window. We all dart down, and I can feel a shingle slip out from under me and shatter as it hits the cobblestone. I wince at the sound, hoping it isn't enough to alert those inside. Knockturn Alley has enough strange noises as it is. No one should even bat an eye.

Harry passes me a stern look which causes me to mouth another apology as I'm ruining this whole curiosity trip. We wait a few more moments before making a second effort to peer over the peak of the roof again. 

And it's now entirely apparent it's not just a shopping day. Three other Death Eaters spread the expanse of the shop, all surrounding the Malfoys. I recognize every single one of them from the meeting, still dressed in black exteriors like ink splotches in the dim, yellow lighting. They stand threatening, all looking exactly as before except-

Except for Malfoy. My eyes latch onto him as I take in his features. His clothes are the only thing identical from our Dark Mark ceremony. Black, expensive fabric molded into a fitting suit with evenly creased trousers cuffed just above prestigious, black dress shoes. But his face. Dark circles, much like my own, rim his tired grey eyes. They're stormed like they were when I upset him. And his mouth, wiped of its usual sarcastic smirk, now more turned down in worried anticipation. And he looks thinner, no, leaner, like if he hasn't eaten much as of late. He looks horrible in comparison to a week ago.

That creeping thought from last night finds its way back from the corners of my mind. The one where I'd hoped he felt the same anguish and pain that I've felt since the last time we saw each other. The thought boils and grows because just by looking at him now, my hopes are confirmed. Especially as he subconsciously smooths the fabric over his left forearm, repeatedly. And to the unknowing eye, someone would think he's just particular about the way his clothing folds. But I know that's far from the truth. He's trying to push away the throbbing sensation. Trying to distract himself from its lingering sting.

And hiding here, watching his unsteady breathing as Narcissa whispers something to him, I can feel the same tinge of pain just as he does. Because it's now something we share. The only thing we've ever shared. Before, Harry would have had longer conversations with Malfoy. But now, I'm not so sure that's going to remain intact.

"What are they..." Hermione wonders aloud, just quiet enough for only the four of us to hear. Her thought dies in her throat as my gaze finds its way to a particular piece of furniture the Malfoys are standing by. There're detailed carved features into what appears to be a starkly black cabinet.

A cabinet?

Malfoy's slender fingers, pale, and unmarked by a hint of hard work or struggle brushes the handle. That's the last thing I see until Ron tugs the back of my jumper down, concealing me along with the rest as Greyback slowly turns. His ugly face scans carefully before he magically snaps the blind shuts.

Harry climbs back up to see if can still glance through anything but from the exasperated sigh that slips from his lips, I can tell that was all we're getting.

I manage not to fall off the roof. My black boots hit the color-matched stone as I take in the sudden silence expanded over the others. Hermione looks nervously between Ron and Harry. Ron, seemingly the only one to be unaffected, simply shrugs as he works on dragging Harry back towards his brother's shop. But Harry, Harry seems angry. It scares me, worries me so deeply I've gone mute as I stay a few paces behind, while Ron tries to start conversation about his chances for Gryffindors Quidditch team this year. Harry only nods to questions that require an answer and Hermione, far too smart, knows what we just saw has deeply affected him as she continues to look on nervously. 

Probably set off millions of questions through his head. Questions I know will only lead to assumptions designed by the bond of hatred between Malfoy and Harry.

As we get back to the twin's shop, suddenly surrounded by noise once again, an atmosphere I craved so badly just a few moments ago, I feel, once again, out of place. And my fucking Mark is making it very clear that I _should_ feel out of place. It hasn't stopped throbbing since my eyes latched onto Malfoy. Yet, I'm so out of sorts that I'm not sure if I should understand the pain as a warning or a reminder. The dainty line of my trusted ties to both sides of an oncoming war. Malfoy probably dances eloquently along that line, but I know I'm falling at each step. Stumbling, tripping, making a fool of myself as eyes will begin to turn. They'll start to recognize my lack of practice and the distrust of my partner.

We spend only another five minutes in the shop before I feel suffocated. I don't want to look at love potions for another hour until we're finally called back to the Burrow for dinner. I'm too distracted by a newly curious thing. The more I nervously fray the edge of my sweater, ruining its delicately knitted fabric, I realize my Mark no longer feels like its usual abstract mess of pain. It pulls. Tugs on my curiosity with such force that I'm all sorts of bewildered when I mumble to Hermione that I need to go pick up a book for a class I'm not even in and slipping out of the shop's doors at her consenting nod. 

And my first thought makes my stomach twist at its unexpected context. The air feels so much lighter.

I'm alone, just outside the entrance of the joke shop with muffled noises of laughter and joy behind me as I tighten and relax my hands from fists at my side, deciding if this is really something I'm about to do. But, it only takes another moment for that same pull from before to tug a little harder and my legs are making their way back to Knockturn Alley.

"This is not a good idea." I mutter to myself over and over as I go to clutch my wand, holding it at my side as I follow the same path of shadows back to Borgin and Burkes. And then a single thought makes me realize how stupid I'm being. 

What if they've already left?

I'm going to look like an idiot, wandering around Knockturn Alley by myself if the one thing I was meant to find has already gone back to their marble palace. My chants switch to "This is so stupid," as I hasten my steps, gripping onto my wand tightly as I finally find the shop. 

The shades to the front door are drawn shut, and I hope it's a signal of the continuation in Malfoy's furniture adventure and not the store being closed. My steps slow as I get closer, feeling my heart pump with anxious worry even though I know I'm not to be threatened by the likes of those I'm now recently bound with. But after years of despising most Death Eaters, it's hard to not feel that heavy sense of concern whenever they're close by. It's like your body is preparing for war.

I wrap my fingers around the handle, allowing one more deep breath before I turn it. I'm barely a step into the store when I hear a sudden shout. " _Stupefy!"_

I duck as fast as I can while glass shatters above me, letting out an alarmed yelp at the noise. And then there's a different voice that breaks through the instantaneous panic. "Put your fucking wands away and use your eyes." It's Malfoy.

My head tilts up from my crouched position once I'm sure I'm not about to get stunned in a bloody antique shop and the first thing I see are those grey eyes. Malfoy's slender figure stands above me with his arms crossed over his chest, looking decidedly pissed off that I'm in front of him at the moment.

"Purchasing a new cabinet?" I mumble, letting my earlier anger bleed through my words because this is clearly about our task, and I've been kept as the blind idiot.

Malfoy rolls his eyes as he takes a step back, allowing me to fully stand. "What are you doing here Pierce?" His voice is low and impatient.

I dust debris out of my hair as I refuse to meet his eyes. "Nice to see you too, Malfoy." Instead, I look over to the group of Death Eaters accompanying him. They've migrated into a group, looking at me curiously as if they've forgotten who I am. But Narcissa stands out as her face is pinched with worry like she's telling me I shouldn't be here. I think the stuns thrown at me only seconds ago are confirmation enough of that remark. 

"You shouldn't be here." Malfoy mimics my thoughts harshly, but he lowers his volume, just enough so it's loud enough for just the two of us. 

I finally look to him, mirroring his arms as I cross my own over my chest after sliding my wand back into my pocket. "Has anyone ever told you you're rather terrible at hiding the fact that you don't want to be seen?" His glare falters at my words. "Harry and the others saw you. Saw a glimpse of inside. That's how I found you." I explain, knowing that knowledge alone should worry him. 

Malfoy casts a glance at his mother before turning back to me. His expression resumes to its normally angular glare of disapproval. "Of course Gryffindor's royal court would take to spying." He grumbles.

I let out an exasperated sigh, keeping to my internal pact of staying away from the topic of my friends when it comes to Malfoy. "Never mind Harry. Care to explain what you're up to since I clearly was not invited?" I ask. My frustrations are showing, and I ignore the thought of me acting like a child in front of people that have no issue with tossing me aside. 

"Clearly." Malfoy repeats, not giving me an inch of information.

"What's so important about the bloody cabinet, Malfoy?" I ask before I'm pushing past him, taking steps towards the ugly piece of furniture. But a cold hand wraps around my wrist, just below my Dark Mark, and I freeze.

Malfoy looks at me carefully and then I see it. That same look his mother had a moment ago. Warning. He sucks in a deep breath. "It needs to be mended." Is all he says before dropping my arm.

It's not enough. My curiosity is already teetering on the edge of impatience, but it's my worry that he's going to do something without me being able to protect the ones I care about that scares me. Pushes me to get the information I need so I'm not caught off guard. Because I can't have this all ending with people who don't deserve to be hurt getting struck by the shrapnel of the explosion. 

"Why?" My voice is quiet, pleading as I'm essentially begging for footnotes of a story I can't read.

Malfoy's face contorts like he's deciding how to present the information to me. Even if I don't get the whole picture, I just need something that will ease the thoughts in the back of my mind. Malfoy finally gives in. "Remember when I told you we needed to get the others into the castle for proof? After it's all done." 

I nod, staying quiet as I wait for him to elaborate.

"I think I've found a way." We both cease our words as I realize that's all he's giving me. The shiny wrapping that reveals nothing of the present inside. But it's still something.

"Okay." I whisper before I can think of a more rational response to pull more information out of him. And Malfoy doesn't hesitate to take my submitting response with a nod as he goes to resume his position beside his mother.

They all look at me, most having not heard the details of Malfoy and I's brief conversation. "Thanks for the warning Pierce." Malfoy says, instantly regaining his cocky attitude as if he's meant to put on a show for everyone to ridicule me. "Next time, be sure to stop those traitors you call friends before they get into my business, yeah?"

I'm not above hexing him. My hand hovers over my wand while I stay still, absolutely thrown by his abrupt mood swing. I _want_ to hex him.

And he's caught on too because those amused silver eyes of his see my hand on the brink of reach for my wand. The humor on his face slowly melts as I begin to wonder how much of a Death Eater I want to be at the moment. The shop won't look too out of place if it's completely destroyed. It'll match the building I climbed up thirty minutes ago.

"I'll see you on the train to Hogwarts." Malfoy says suddenly, more calmly, less teasing. The snickers of the other Death Eaters die at his words, signaling my exit. They continue to stare like they know I'm not really one of them. Can't be. Otherwise, I would have already fired my first curse.

But my shoulders square, and my hand falls to my side. And I manage a nod before I'm turning on my heel, fighting the embarrassment I can feel reddening my cheeks as I slam the already shattered door to the shop.

My steps are angry as I make my way back to the joke shop because I should have fought more. Hell, I shouldn't have even gone in the first place. I'm distracted and mumbling everything I wish I had said as I reenter Diagon Alley. "Fucking Malfoy and his stupid fucking suit and ridiculous cabinet. Should have fucking cursed-"

"Aurora?" My words are immediately swallowed as I look up to see Hermione looking at me with confusion from the entrance to the twin's shop. Harry and Ron are not far behind her, with Ginny being the last to slip out of the door with all their eyes narrowing towards me.

My vision fades from red and I'm forcing out an excuse before I can properly decide if it's good enough. "Sorry, ran into a friend." Maybe I should curse myself. My only friends are standing in front of me, becoming increasingly worried as I probably look like I've put my head through a dusty window.

"You sure you didn't run into anything else?" Ron lets out a small laugh from his own observation as he clearly feels awkward at the strange standoff between his friends. Harry fights a smile and that's when I know there has to be bits of that bloody antique store still all over me.

I self-consciously run my hands through my hair, already feeling pieces of chipped paint fall out. "The bookshop is old." Is all I can manage, digging myself into a deeper hole. My tendency of being a shit liar is rearing its ugly head at the wrong moment. 

Hermione's initial confusion breaks as she takes a step towards me, picking the last piece of chipped wood off of my sweater. "Invite us next time you decide to fight a bookshop. Maybe then we can help you actually get that book you needed." Hermione says slyly, finally breaking that withheld laugh from Harry. Hermione winks, signaling that she won't dwell on the topic of my obviously false excuse for disappearing earlier, and I can feel myself visibly relax. I huff out a wry smile of embarrassment, nodding firmly for emphasis before stepping back in line with my friends as we head home.

Exhaustion pulls at every one of my nerves by the time we reach the Burrow. The lack of sleep having finally caught up as I catch myself yawning and zoning out of every almost every conversation that drags on through dinner. And as we all prepare for our final sleep before the trip to Hogwarts and the start of term, today's events play over and over in my head. 

And I drift away to my first ounce of sleep with Malfoy's taunts echoing throughout my subconsciousness. Like they're reminding me of what's to come.

But oddly enough, as my eyes finally give and shut close, I fall into the best sleep I've had in forever. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for everyone that's read so far! See you at the next one.


	5. Honor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Thoughts are the shadows of our feelings-
> 
> Always darker, emptier and simpler.'
> 
> -Friedrich Nietzsche

I overslept.

Not drastically, but it's enough to ruin my morning. Hermione's gentle touch shakes me awake. Her other hand holds out a warmed muffin from a breakfast everyone's already finished.

"We didn't want to wake you. You've just seemed tired lately. But we're leaving for the train station in thirty minutes so we couldn't wait any longer." Hermione looks far too sympathetic and it causes me to push myself up and rub the sleep from my eyes, pretending like my nerves don't feel fried and that there isn't that sick feeling that lingers when you've slept too long. I take the muffin gingerly from her hand, letting the smell wake up my last senses. Molly's cooking is practically better than any Wideye Potion. 

"Thank you." I say, tearing off a small piece of the muffin. "I'll be down in a little." Hermione nods, gathering her final bag as she descends the stairs, leaving me alone.

I groan when she's gone, forcibly blinking my eyes to wake myself up. I take the longest with the muffin, eating it slowly as I let my thoughts begin to unravel from my dream filled sleep. All the unanswered questions sensing their eventual solutions are just around the corner.

Time slips away until I've got only ten minutes to gather my things and look presentable before everyone leaves for Hogwarts without me. My clothes remain unfolded as I stuff them into random trunks, being sure to slip on another jumper just before I latch everything shut. Beads of sweat are already starting to form at my temples. The weather showing no mercy for my need to hide the puppet strings sewn through my arm.

"Rory?" It's Ginny at the top of the stairs. I smooth over my sleeve one more time, slipping on an elated smile.

"Ready." I step in line beside Ginny and Hermione, deciding to travel alongside them with Molly as the twins envelop Harry and Ron, shoving both the younger boys in brotherly teasing as they get ready to head to King's Cross station.

I remain quiet for most of the ride to London. Mostly because I'm still not entirely awake and partly because I know what waits at the end of our train ride. It has me wringing my fingers in my lap with such force that Hermione takes notice, placing a hand over mine and passing a curious look that I reflexively shake off. She doesn't bring it up again, always so perceptive of how to react in any situation.

Everyone practically skips in anticipation as we near Platform 9 3/4. But the brick wall stares back at me when I align my cart. Taunting, as if to say there's no going back once I'm through to the other side. And I'm the last one, the others either having already made their way to the train or waiting, wondering as to why I haven't run through.

My feet feel cemented into the ground. My nerves flickering with every passing second as I know the door is on the verge of closing. But it's my Mark that frees my feet. That same pull from back in Diagon Alley, a new sensation I've decided I do not like, beckons, tugging each of my joints until I'm running through the wall. The rippling sheen closing once my cart rolls out onto the platform.

And I feel breathless and so undesirably tired. More so when I see Ginny and Hermione catch my eye, having waited instead of abandoning me. It only makes my chest ache more because I want nothing more than to not go to school this year.

Someone shoves past me, dissolving my thoughts.

My eyes focus on black and white and my blood goes cold. Because Malfoy glances at me over his shoulder. His expression cocky as ever as he saunters with his hands in his trousers, making a point to wink just before he boards the train like this is all one sick joke to him. It's enough to have me huff out a sigh and begin entering the train myself, except far, far away from Malfoy and the Slytherin car.

Even with the idea of specific cars being dedicated to specific Houses having fallen away ages ago, I know my own House has a tendency of being tedious with tradition, always making a point to crowd a few sections for our own. I haven't found my way back to those sections since Second Year. I don't plan on seeing what they're like anytime soon.

Muffled shouts erupt from the platform outside as I take my seat beside Ginny, facing out the window as the train begins to ready for its departure. First Years stick their heads out and wave viciously at the shining, proud expressions of their parents. The sight makes me stop looking out of the window. I wish they weren't on this train, about to go to a school that won't be the same after this year. They deserve so much better. Far better.

The train lurches forward and older students are already out of their seats, off to rearrange and find friends they haven't seen since end of last term. I share a section with Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, although I have a sneaking feeling Ginny's about to wander off to find Dean if he doesn't come here first. Hermione has a book in her lap and Ron is finishing off some extra food he snuck from breakfast. But Harry is oddly quiet. 

He sits directly across from me, glancing out of the window, watching the families that stream by until they're gone. He's too quiet I've decided. His joyful mood from this morning seems to dissipate with every minute that passes on the train. And we all remain in this sort of limbo of silence until we're maybe halfway there before he decides to spark conversation.

Ginny having just left, Dean finally coming around to say hello and ask about our summers before sweeping her away, and Luna passing Hermione and I the Quibbler is when Harry leans forward. Silence wraps around our closed compartment. The muffle of bright conversation past the sliding door making it sound like we're underwater. And I might as well be underwater, drowning, because Harry begins to suggest the very thing I wished would have never crossed his mind.

"I need you all to hear me out before you say anything." His voice is firm and serious when he starts. Ron stops eating, Hermione shuts her book, but I keep my eyes glued to the stupid magazine wrinkling in my hands, feeling the thin pages tear as he continues to talk.

"Malfoy, and the furniture store, it's all rather suspicious don't you all think?" He asks. I'm holding my breath, closing the magazine and finally raising my eyes. Ron looks all sorts of confused, but Hermione has her face scrunched up in worry as if she doesn't like where Harry is going with this anymore than I do. 

Ron is the first to answer, shrugging his shoulders as if the thought of Malfoy left his mind the moment we left Knockturn Alley. "Probably just wanted some ugly furniture to match the Slytherin dormitories." Ron makes a pointed apology my way, and I want so badly to laugh, to disagree and poke fun because I've never found the Slytherin dormitories to be anything close to ugly. Although, I can't say the same for the gaudy mess that's Gryffindors red and gold party house of a common room, but my laughter is snuffed out before it can even begin to form.

Harry rolls his eyes. "You don't need that many people to buy furniture." He says pointedly, and I ball my hands into fists with my sweater sleeves covering them as I brace for his next words. "It looked like some sort of ceremony." And there it is. 

If only they knew that whatever they saw in Borgin and Burkes was far from the ceremony that Malfoy has already been through. If only they knew that it was much, much colder. I wish they knew. I want them to know. But it's the developing sensation of prickling pain on my forearm that pushes away my thoughts. A reminder of the consequences if they did know. 

"Harry, stop it." My head turns suddenly to Hermione. Her brief, curt words enough to bring about the silence from earlier and I'm surprised at how quick she is to turn down Harry's suspicions. 

Harry waits a brief moment and Ron decides to beat him to the next words. "What are you thinking Harry? Really. What's so bad about what we saw?" Ron tries to be rational, but Harry is having none of it. 

"It was an initiation of sorts." He pushes again, but Hermione slips in her word once again.

"Draco Malfoy is not a Death Eater." She says firmly. I don't realize that I suddenly sit a little straighter, bringing unwanted attention my way. Hermione's face softens. "I didn't mean to say the title so harshly." She says, keeping her voice quiet. And that's when I realize why her sympathy is being thrown my way. My father, a notorious Death Eater, dead in the stone walls of Azkaban. A topic I am hardly affected by with everything else swirling in my mind has suddenly re-entered the thoughts of my friends. They assumingely think any mention of Death Eaters reminds me of a man who hasn't been in my life for the betterment of close to seven years at this point. But I play along. Because it's easier than the truth.

"I- I don't mind." I struggle to get my first words out, having been practically mute this whole morning. "Really. It doesn't bother me to talk about Death Eaters. But, I do agree with Hermione. You-Know-Who will have no interest in Malfoy after what happened with his father." The lies come out easier with every sentence. 

But Harry only takes my statements as a basis for new arguments, turning directly to me. "Isn't that it though? His father. Malfoy would want to renew the honor in his family name. He isn't going to get any sympathy from the Ministry as they're the ones to have stripped that honor in the first place. The only chance at respect would be from replacing his father as a Death Eater." 

_It's not about renewing honor. It's about paying a debt._

Ron scoffs this time. "Mate, with that logic, Rory here would have had to replace her father as a Death Eater." Hermione slaps Ron's arm thinking of him as being insensitive. It's almost ironically hilarious how smart Ron is when he isn't trying to be. I shake off Hermione's concern as I look into Harry's eyes.

My silent thoughts stay behind closed doors as I take a deep breath, trying to form a better path around his logical thinking. "It's not like that Harry." My voice teeters on the edge of pleading, begging for him to drop the questions building in his head. "After what happened with my father, and with everything that's happened recently, the Dark-" I clear my throat. "You-Know-Who doesn't show interest in failure." I keep the statement blunt, letting the words sit with Harry a moment, wondering if he'll accept them.

Harry sits back against the worn cushions of the compartment. I glance over to Ron and Hermione, who are sharing looks between Harry and I, waiting for the next words to be spoken. But I don't have to wait to see in Harry's eyes that what I've said hasn't landed. Even when he gives a wordless nod before standing and grabbing something from his bag, murmuring that he needs air as he leaves our car. Hermione shares another apologetic glance at me, probably still stuck with the idea of Death Eater talk making my uneasy.

And it does. Just not in the way she thinks. My uneasiness has nothing to do with my father, but rather with my own, secret ties. Ties that are trying to be very blatantly known after the traded words in our tight compartment. A space that feels like its closing in with every humming wash of pain that's begun to shoot up my arm. I wince before standing. "I'm going to see if I can grab anything from the trolly. Hungry because I skipped breakfast." I ramble out my excuse as I make my way out into the crowded walkway. Hermione still has a look of worry taking over her features as I start walking. 

I rub my arm a few times, shaking it out as I wander aimlessly through various cars, having no place in mind, but just needing the space. I get a few waves from familiar faces, a few attempts at conversation. Even see my dorm mates that I've never been all that close with, but they still pull at my arm when they see me walk past.

"Aurora!" Tia shouts. Her dark brown hair in perfect ringlets bounces around her face as she stands to give me a hug. I muffle a sound of discomfort before I put on a surprised smile, wrapping my arms around her. Darcy and Prudence wait their turn, each saying their hello's when they've got me in separate hugs. "It's been ages. How was summer?" Tia continues to talk as she always does, never giving an ounce of breath for anyone to speak unless she's allowed it.

I carefully smooth down my sleeves as I step briefly into their compartment. "It was fine. Nothing new." I say shortly. 

"She's lying." Darcy's sing-song voice interrupts. But it's her careful words that sends a pang of worry firing off in my chest. I turn to look at her with confusion wrapped around me as she twirls a strand of her short, black hair before leaning closer as if she's about to share a secret. "Rumor has it you've been playing with the Malfoys." I can feel the blood drain from my face.

"I-" My words are cut off once again, this time by Prudence.

"Oh please, and where did you hear that? Aurora wouldn't be caught dead near a Malfoy." I silently thank Prudence as I turn back to Darcy for an answer. All of them knowing my aversion of Slytherin House principles and people in general. Something they've never minded in all our years rooming together.

Darcy huffs out a breath at Prudence's call for evidence. "It's on my own accords. I live by the bloody Malfoys. I think I would know if I saw Aurora and her mother heading to their house near the end of summer. It's the last one on our street so they couldn't have gone anywhere else." Darcy leans back, clearly pleased with her deduction. My brain scrambles to come up with a reasonable excuse as to why I would be anywhere near Malfoy Manor as the eyes of Prudence and Tia suddenly fill with curiosity.

"My mother needed to check on Narcissa." I blurt out. So maybe lying hasn't gotten easier. "Something about last minute security checks before the start of term and with Lucius' recent imprisonment." Theoretically, my words could make sense. My mother's an Auror. Is probably already at Hogwarts, preparing for said last minute security checks. And they all seem to accept it, except for Darcy. Her face scrunches with placid ignorance as if she doesn't like her blossoming gossip to be so easily swept away.

"Well, that explains your mother's presence but not yours." She fires. But I sit a little straighter, grip onto my confidence a little tighter.

"We went to Diagon Alley directly after to pick up some things for the school year. It was just a quick visit in a day full of errands." I want to smile at the way Darcy's demeanor practically shatters. The need to celebrate a small victory of diminishing quintessential rumors that could lead to very bad discoveries shoots through me.

"You see Darcy? Aurora barely plays with Slytherin, let alone the Malfoys." Prudence adds on to the breaking of Darcy's confidence in what she had saw. I'd completely forgotten she even lived anywhere close to Malfoy Manor. The day had been so washed in grey and darkness that I'm not sure I would have been able to point out her house through all the fog anyways. 

Darcy crosses her arms over her chest, suddenly feeling snide. "I suppose you're right. Was a bit surprised to see you even near the Slytherin cars in the first place." She mumbles her words, but they put new realization in me. My thoughts have been so scattered from earlier that I didn't even notice the sudden blend of green and silver that's taken over the last few compartments. 

"Just wanted to come say hello." I say pointedly. Darcy rolls her eyes, and I wonder how long she's going to ignore me over this. Tia cuts into my view, her golden face shining bright as always.

"And we're happy you did." She exclaims. I offer her a responsive smile before I catch Darcy's glare again and it's enough to have me stand, ready to leave Slytherin central until I'm pushed back into when we arrive to Hogwarts.

"I'm going to head out, but I'll see you when we arrive?" I keep my voice cheerful, pretending my interaction with my supposed-to-be friends was entirely intentional. Tia is already nodding, and Prudence adds her own friendly nod, but Darcy is already wrapped up in her quick fall into pettiness and I take it as my cue to leave.

But just as I'm turning the corner after having closed the door to their compartment, I run into something hard. And without even looking to see if it's a human or a wall I'm attempting to mumble out an apology, but someone else beats me to it.

"Not one for using your eyes Pierce?" The words leave his mouth as I look up at Malfoy, standing just at the entrance to the next car, leaning against the frame of the doorway as he quirks his mouth to the side in a smirk.

I swallow my apology before letting my face fall into a glare. "I'm normally so used to ignoring your existence I didn't even see you until you were running into me." My voice is low, and I feel my hands ball into fists as Malfoy only rolls his eyes. 

"Heard my name being thrown around and couldn't pass up the chance to investigate. Was pleasantly surprised to find you chatting away about my father's incarceration." His tone turns deadly cold and before I can stop him, he pulls both of us into the space that joins two cars. He wordlessly pulls out his wands, charming the doors shut and flipping the blinds down, only letting me talk when I hear both doors lock.

I swallow hard, hating how suffocating the space feels. How little room I have. I don't even realize I've backed up into the wall until I feel it press against my back. "Can we just drop this?" I begin and my begging gives me away as Malfoy knows he has the upper hand in our newly shared space. Making a point to let me know as he takes a careful step forward, looming over me with that bloody smirk on his face. "Darcy was going off about some crazed idea that I'd ever willingly show up to your house. I had to lie before it escalated." I explain.

Malfoy is so unnervingly close that I can hear his even breathing as the sound surrounding us seems muffled, and I begin to wonder if he's also added a _Muffliato_ charm to keep our words a secret. "Could have said you were visiting a new friend." He says coolly.

I let out an exasperated sigh. "We've barely spoken to each other before Malfoy. It wouldn't have made sense. You're not my friend." I say the last sentence as boldly as I can, having had enough of Malfoy to last me an eternity. I attempt to move past him, desperate to get out of the corridor. But I feel his hand, a hand I thought was somewhat delicate when it brushed against the cabinet at Borgin and Burkes, wrap firmly around my wrist before pulling me back.

I stumble, letting out a surprised yelp as I basically fall against his chest. I immediately straighten, trying to push away the red flushing my cheeks. "No. I'm not. And you are of course, not my friend either. But," His free hand, the one that isn't still clutching my wrist with a vice grip, pulls at my sweater sleeve, lifting it up to reveal my Dark Mark. I rip my arm away, feeling a nauseous wave spread throughout me, hating the sudden sight of it as I aggressively readjust my sleeve. Malfoy only laughs. "You and I are bound to things far darker than a stupid friendship. And if this is going to work, learn to keep your mouth shut about my family's dealings, and we won't have a problem." He spits his words out like venom and a rush of anxiety plays with my nerves. I feel like I can't breathe.

"Don't act innocent." Malfoy continues, taking advantage of my lacking response. "You've been thinking about our little task all fucking day." He pauses, drawing up the sleeve of his expensive clothes, black as always, revealing our attachment, his Mark, just as dark as the fabric of his clothes. "I can feel it in my arm. Same as you." His silver eyes bore into my soul and I feel tears prick at the back of my eyes. 

"Harry." I force out. "It's Harry."

Malfoy readjusts his clothes and straightens. "What's Golden Boy have to say about me that he hasn't already said." 

"He knows you're a Death Eater." I say suddenly, knowing my words earlier didn't even register with Harry. Knowing he's held onto his assumptions with a tighter grip than the one Malfoy had around my wrist. And it's this new knowledge that elicits the first reaction out of the Malfoy.

He straightens. His smirk falters. And it's my only indication that he still cares what others think. Especially the opinions of those well-liked. 

But his expression resumes as if it had never cracked in the first place. "And does he know one of his friends is a wolf in sheep's clothing?" Malfoy throws the words at me, and I silently shake my head, knowing that is something that I can never let happen. He smiles deliberately at my response. "At least I don't hide my faults." 

His last words are just short of a mumble, but they echo in my head with fury. His _faults_ are engraved into my arm just the same. His faults are what left both of us without a father. It's nothing to be proud of. "And that's the fucking problem." My confidence starts to build again, feeling suddenly renewed. "Harry's so caught up in what he saw at the furniture shop that he didn't need much before he jumped to obvious conclusions. And I don't know enough to defend you."

I go silent again, wishing I could take back the last bit. Because I have no intention to ever defend Malfoy unless he attempts to drag me down with him.

Malfoy doesn't seem to notice. He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against one of the closed doors. "Let him ramble. Everyone's already rolled my name in their mouth with disgust anyways. No thanks to dear dad." He releases a humorless laugh.

"But Harry isn't just anyone. Malfoy, please. I know him. He isn't just going to let this go." I've gone back to begging. The realization that this attachment Malfoy described between us means that if anything were to happen to him, I'm going to catch fire just the same. And Harry is holding matches dangerously close to Malfoy, not realizing the two of us are covered in gasoline.

Malfoy pushes off the door, closing the minimal space between us, suffocating me once again as he looks down. "If you know him so well, you'll do your best to make him drop it." He threatens. I stand my ground, wishing everything didn't turn into a bloody argument with him.

"I can't just make him forget it. And maybe if you would tell me more about what you were doing, I could better lie for you." I throw my chance at getting information out into the air between us, but Malfoy hardly seems phased, relaxing into that taunting smile of his.

"My, my. Didn't take you to be the eager type for murderous activities." As soon as the words leave his mouth, I visibly straighten and push him back. He stumbles without dropping his act, knowing he's gotten a rise out of me.

"I'm not fucking eager. I want to know what my psychotic partner is doing behind my back." The back of my mind hopes he gives me anything. A word. A sense of direction. But it's just like back at Borgin and Burkes. He deflects.

"Glad we've decided on partner instead of friends. Far more suiting." He keeps his gaze on the edge of his sleeve as his delicate fingers smooth the creases.

"You're not going to give me anything?" I hate how exasperated I sound. I hate how less I feel whenever I talk to him. He holds all the cards, and I'm blindfolded, reaching out to try and grab one.

"Not unless I think it's necessary." Malfoy brings his eyes back up to me. He has his wand in his hand, and I can hear the doors unlock just before he puts it back in his pocket. "And besides, I like you better when you're crazed with anger." He smirks over his shoulder, leaving me in the corridor as he makes his way back to his seat. Just as he pretends to grab something from his bag, he notices me still standing and makes a point to shoo me away, raising an eyebrow as if to ask what more do I want. 

I turn on my heal, wishing I were off this train. My heartbeat pounds in my ears. I don't say another word to anyone until I'm at least another car away.

But that's when it happens. 

There's a shriek of surprised shouts that come from the same car that Malfoy was in and it causes me to falter my steps and look back. Except the car is now shrouded in darkness as black smoke seems to puff out with Slytherins yelling curses at the commotion.

My anger suddenly dissipates, being quickly replaces with panic because even through the clouds I can see the familiar shimmer of Harry's invisibility cloak wrap around him just before he disappears.

 _Fucking hell_. 

They're going to kill each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated on wattpad as well! (username: padfootsazkaban) Thank you for reading!


	6. Forces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Hell is empty and all the devils are here.'
> 
> -William Shakespeare

My legs feel numb.

My hands practically shake as I guide my way back to Ron and Hermione, hoping Harry will be sat between them and not hiding amongst silver and green. But luck has never been one to fall on my side. It mocks me further when I see only Hermione and Ron, talking quietly when I get back to our compartment. 

And the panic must have already reached my face because Hermione jerks her head up to look at me and her laughter from something Ron said immediately dies.

"What is it? What's happened?" Her voice snaps me out of my panic. Malfoy's words come to mind, echoing in my ear. A statement of belief that I can't keep my friends away from what they don't need to know, like how he so easily does with me.

I causes me to straighten, to smile a little before rolling my eyes and sliding into the compartment before flopping down onto a free section of space. "Darcy is just as neurotic as usual." I keep my tone light, neutral. I can recognize the sudden switch in Hermione's brain go from worry to confusion to uneasy acceptance. But it's enough to guide her thoughts away from where they don't need to be.

She searches for that laugh from earlier. "What's she on about now?" Hermione asks as Ron looks warily between the two of us like he's on the verge of throwing himself out of the train window if we devolve into 'girl talk'.

"I swear, I can't say one thing without her feeling like I'm actively plotting against her. Didn't even get the chance to catch the trolly before she was trying to tell me her share of summer gossip." I continue, being careful to cover my earlier lie and stay clear of details that reveal the whole picture. I let words I've shared with Hermione in the past fly between us, finding that comfortable spot of complaining about my least favorite dorm mate.

Hermione nods in understanding, thinking back to all the nights we blabbed about everything wrong with teenage girls, especially of the likes of Darcy, before deciding teenage boys were no better as we would laugh about everything stupid and young that both Harry and Ron had a tendency to do. I miss those nights. The nights of bonding between the two of us while we spilled our deepest hurts and insecurities. Nights filled with words of every young girls' deepest fears in growing up. She understands. So well. The feeling of fitting in through tolerance and not acceptance.

Hermione with her casual acquaintance ties she reserves for everyone except the Weasleys and Harry and me with most of Slytherin House being misshapen frame for an ill-fitting picture. Although, I will say my issue is more due in part to my own selfish actions. Always staying quiet, never making an effort to make connections or start conversations, avoiding every and any House party. Because why would I when I never had to make an effort with my friends. Barely had to lift a finger before I was swept up in an unfamiliar territory of acceptance. 

And I never looked back.

Still haven't, but there's a lurking shadow with claws pulling at the back of my jumper these days. Pulling me back to my roots. To First Year Aurora that did try to make an effort. Took on all the silly Slytherin stereotypes dubbed by other Houses. Even took part in a whisper or two about my current friends with Darcy and the lot of them. But it never felt exactly right. Didn't quite click.

Of course, I could have just never found the right sort of people to associate with in my own House. I lost friends on more than one occasion when they learned I wasn't all that interested in my father's extracurriculars as a Death Eater. And when I searched out alternatives, I got disgruntled stares from those that assumed I was like every other pureblood snob, just waiting for You-Know-Who to return before I hexed them all.

I suppose it didn't really matter in the end but at the time it did.

And I've told Hermione many times. Explained through long nights of meaningless homework how I liked being a part of Slytherin the way I am now. Loyal but at a distance. The space being my only comfort as I can willingly choose where to put my energy and time.

But she's always understood. She was the first to bat down the backhanded words of some of our friends when they realized my robes were green and not red. There's always been a sense of ensured security with her. A security I'm going to need if all hell breaks loose. One I can't risk fracturing until absolutely necessary.

And I will lie through my fucking teeth if I have to keep it that way.

"Darcy's always been like that. I remember First Year she practically threw a fit when I made top of class in Transfigurations and she didn't." Hermione's face brightens at the thought to more peaceful times. And that's when Ron takes his chance at joining the conversation, finding his own silence to have stretched too long.

"She wasn't even second in class Mione." He adds pointedly. And Hermione nods, turning back to me.

"Ron's right." Her smile widens a little, reaching her eyes. "Aurora was second." I let out a laugh thinking about it. How behind closed curtains I fought tooth and nail to best Miss Hermione Granger because it didn't feel right to not have a Slytherin at the top of everything. But I had slowly realized like many others it wasn't even worth the extra hours of work.

"I'll claim my place above you in Potions this year anyways." I throw back, knowing we have the class together. Ron huffs out a relieved sigh.

"You two have fun with that. You will not be catching me anywhere near the Potions classroom if I can help it." Hermione teasingly shoves him.

"And I suppose you'll be using your free period with Harry wisely?" She asks, although it come out more as a demand rather than a question. But it's Harry's name that falters my demeanor. Luckily, Hermione is still laughing at Ron's reason for needing a free period to notice as I make note of something clearly still missing.

"Speaking of, any clue where Harry is? We should be nearing Hogwarts soon." I ask innocently. Ron shrugs and Hermione shakes her head.

I take their lack of answers with a nod, grabbing the Quibbler I left behind earlier. I read through it probably three times, ruining my fingernails as I nervously chew at them, waiting, hoping that Harry comes back. But he never does. 

Not in the last minutes of the train ride. Not as we lurch to a stop. And certainly not when we all have our belongings in our hands when we get off the train. "Should we wait for him?" Hermione asks while we pause at the platform, looking through the crowds of students eagerly making their way to the first set of carriages waiting for them.

"Probably already on his way to the castle." Ron says absentmindedly, tugging at Hermione's sleeve to catch one of the few remaining seats left amongst the carriages. But I stay still. That panic from earlier banging against the wall I've built because I know something's wrong. 

It takes the mocking grins of Malfoy's friends at the three of us to set me in motion. Because Malfoy isn't with him. And Harry isn't with us. I'm turning to Ron and Hermione before I can change my mind. "I've left something on the train. I'll wave to you from across the Great Hall." I say quickly. The two of them can barely respond before I'm turning on my heel and practically sprinting back to the train. 

I stumble onto the train, passing through the cars with quickened steps that turn into a run. My mind attempts to ease out of panic because there's no way that Malfoy would risk hurting Harry. But that thought gets pushed away when I notice the last car has its door closed with the blinds shut.

My steps slow when I near it. Only a few empty rows separating me and the door. And it's quiet enough that I can hear mumbled whispers. A harsh voice cracks through and it doesn't take me long to realize it belongs to Malfoy. I swallow thickly, taking my last step as my fingertips brush the closed door's handle.

Except it swings open before I can even get the chance to open it. I let a surprised yelp escape as I snatch my hand back before bringing up my eyes to see grey. Malfoy's expression stills with shock until it melts into anger. He slams the door behind him, but I manage to get a glimpse of... 

Well, of nothing. The car is empty with Malfoy standing in front of me and an option I didn't even consider sends worry through my stomach. What if I jumped to conclusions?

Malfoy doesn't say another word but startles me again when he grabs my upper arm, pulling me off the train as he takes angered steps when our feet hit the platform. "Do you ever mind your own fucking business?" He doesn't look to me when he asks the question. His grip loosens only slightly when my feet trip into each other from his excessive pulling and I'm able to free my arm. 

I don't move another inch, breathing heavily as he turns with an exasperated expression at my interrupted movement. "Where's Harry." I ask, still hoping I'm not overthinking. I just need one falter of Malfoy's expression and I'll be back on the train within seconds. 

But his face remains as stone cold as always, aside from the added annoyance I've caused him. He runs a hand over his face before taking quick steps toward me just as he had done in the corridor. Except, we're in open air now. All the space in the world. So why do I still feel so suddenly suffocated when there's hardly an arm's length between us?

"Golden boy is probably busy sticking his scarhead in places where it doesn't belong. Seems you've picked up on his habits Pierce." He sneers. The late night envelops us and the chilled winds of an oncoming autumn wrap around me, seeping into my jumper.

It takes everything in me to grip onto my courage. To not back away with a nod. "Malfoy, if you've done anything-" He takes any remaining ounce of confidence and crushes it under his expensive, black shoes.

"If I were to have done anything you would know it. You should learn to stop caring so much about your little friends because when they find out-" 

"Do we have a problem here?" Malfoy stutters his words, turning at the new body. Snape looms over us both, his expressionless face carefully looking between the two of us. And the only thing that comes to mind is how he looks _bored_.

"No sir." I say quickly, almost as if it's an immediate reaction these days. To deflect. 

But Snape knows. It's both comforting and unsettling all at once. Having one more person know my secret but knowing they have no intention of easing the weight of it. 

Malfoy straightens before he walks past Snape, marching away like a bloody child as I breathe out new air, finally having some space to do so. "I think it would be wise, Pierce, if you learned how to better develop connections within your own House." Snape says, moving his gaze away from Malfoy for a brief moment to land on me. "It may be more helpful to you in the end." 

He leaves after that, making his way back towards the blond fuck that's on the verge of a tantrum as Filch goes through his things. But as Snape leaves, my view expands, and I take in all the extra people crowded near the gates. I recognize one of them.

My grip adjusts on my bag as I reposition it on my shoulder before walking up to my mother. It doesn't take her long to start sharing her opinions. "There's never a moment of peace with you." She says harshly, keeping her words at a whisper while we step aside, away from eavesdropping ears. Although, I don't miss the raised eyebrow of Snape just before I look back into my mother's cold, emerald eyes. Damn her and her fucking eyes.

"It was just a misunderstanding." I mumble to which she rolls her eyes. Her mood seems particularly thrown today, which is worse news for me considering I just made a scene in front of her co-workers.

"A misunderstanding that led to both you and the Malfoy boy missing the carriages. And we've had to delay the Protective Charms because of you two." I would believe the second bit if there was any indication of them placing the charms now that Malfoy and I are on school grounds. But everyone stands around motionless save Filch who's waving a walking stick in front of a furious Malfoy. 

"I'll just walk back to the castle with Professor Snape." I say, wishing this conversation could end because it would give me the chance to finally escape from her for a few months. The only relief to me being at Hogwarts this year. 

My mother seems to accept the proposal but stops me before I can turn away from her. "Aurora." She snaps. "I have eyes and ears in Hogwarts. If you make no effort to be tolerable with Draco, I will know. And I don't want to remind you of the consequences should you two fail." I bristle, taking a step back, moving away. Because my mother shouldn't be threatening me. She should be saying last goodbyes and encouragements before I go to school. And it's the final nail in the coffin of our crumbling relationship. 

She's never looked more like a Death Eater to me than she does now.

I don't say another word before I'm turning away from her as I'm on the brink of sprinting to the castle to get away from everyone before I can let the tears run. I'm only able to get a few strides out before I'm stopped by a disgruntled Filch, who says he needs to search me and my belongings. Malfoy catches my eye just as he rips what looks to be his father's walking stick from Filch's dirtied fingers. 

I concede with an annoyed sigh, knowing my nights only going to get worse when I notice Snape stalling with Malfoy as Filch meticulously goes through my things. I'm a blur of emotions until I hear Flitwick say something that catches my ear.

"-Potter." I'm turning before I can stop myself and my eyes land on Harry, standing beside Luna. His vision latches onto me with a confused look forming on his face, but he winces slightly and that's when I notice the broken skin on the bridge of his newly crooked nose. I whip my head to Malfoy glaring, but he's focused on Harry, smirking as if he wants everyone to know he's the one that made him look that way.

"Trip on the way off the train Potter?" He calls out at the same time Filch tells me I'm free to go. And I want to go to Harry and Luna, but my mother stands behind the two of them and she may as well have been glaring holes into me, as she quickly glances to Snape.

"Come along Pierce. We don't have all day." Snape mutters. Filch pushes my bag back into my hands and I turn away guiltily from Harry just as the blue haze of the Protection Charms stretch to the night sky.

Snape leads on the path, letting Malfoy and I walk side by side behind him. The night is quiet, and darkness surrounds us aside from the brief spots of light guiding our steps. I don't say a word the entire way, bottling up everything I wish I could yell at Malfoy in this moment if Snape weren't right next to us. My eyes stay forward and lowered, watching the shadow of Snape's robes flicker against the limited light.

It's only when he leaves the two of us to throw our belongings amongst the pile of other students' things that I finally look back at Malfoy. He's carefully placing the walking stick amongst his things. And I'm not sure why I asked the question. There was no reason for it as my anger towards him has not shifted an inch. But it slips out and I wish I could take it back by his immediate reaction.

"Why'd you bring that?" He straightens when he sees me point to the walking stick. 

"Why do you care?" Malfoy retorts, crossing his arms over his chest, suddenly defensive.

"Can you answer a single question without arguing?" I ask, letting my earlier anger guide my words instead of my curiosity. He doesn't say a word and so I sigh, thinking he's being a prick like usual as I turn to get ready before heading to the Great Hall. But then he says something when I'm already halfway up the stairs. 

And if there was any other noise surrounding us I would have missed it.

"It's a reminder." He says. I look over my shoulder to see him standing there, seeming so small amongst all the trunks and bags around him. "A reminder of why I can't fail." 

I only nod, turning to take the last steps before I disappear from his view. I don't need to ask more questions for him to elaborate. Not that he would ever give me a straight answer, but I don't want to talk about the task. Not with Snape's advice, not with my mother's warning, and not with Harry having almost been left on the train taking over my thoughts instead, struggling to make room in the already crowded corners of my mind. 

And they all cycle in repetition as I change into Slytherin green and silver and race to the Great Hall, taking little time to smooth out my hair or look remotely presentable only to run directly into the last person I want to see.

Malfoy's straightening his tie just outside of the opened doors to the Great Hall, standing in the shadows of the large doors when he looks up at my echoing footsteps. His face falls into that lazy smirk it always seems to default to, and he steps to the side, sweeping out an arm as if to encourage my entrance.

"Do you think everyone's already creating terrible rumors about our absence?" He whispers through his smirk. His question makes me think of Darcy. Merlin, if she sees us walking in together, we might as well renew her fuel for her blabbing mouth to add onto what she saw in the summer. 

I keep my feet stilled on the stone floors. "You go first." I say, feeling so childish as to worry about school rumors before the term's even started. But when it comes to Malfoy, I will build walls myself it means I'm never associated with him. 

He laughs, actually lets a soft, gentle laugh run through him as he steps closer. "Afraid to be seen with me?" It's like he knows my thoughts. I'm opening my mouth to say a stupid excuse, but he loops an arm through my mine and pulls both of us into view of the entire Great Hall as we stand at the entrance. 

I practically leap away from his side, but it's too late. I notice a few conversations die and glances already make their way over towards the entrance before whispers fan out amongst the Houses. It's Darcy who I notice first from Slytherin. Blue eyes widening before they settle above her growing smile. My heart slams in my chest as I know I'm done for.

"You're a fucking nightmare." I mumble before I go to take my seat begrudgingly beside Darcy, Tia, and Prudence. All of them with mixed expressions of shock and satisfaction. It's only when I've thrown myself onto the stiff bench that I look over at Gryffindor table. 

I wish I hadn't. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny's faces are all set with confusion laced in worry because there's still an empty space among them. Harry. 

I look away, feeling my cheeks get hot, and it worsens when Malfoy slides into my view as he takes the seat directly across from me. My eyes go wide as I suddenly straighten, which only causes Darcy to burst out laughing.

"You want to tell me again about your little errand run at the end of summer Aurora?" Darcy teases and I snap my head to her with fury in my eyes.

"Shut it." I whisper before I take to angrily stabbing at the dinner on my plate, trying to take my mind off of the horrible excuse of a person sitting across from me, lazily drinking pumpkin juice as he keeps his gaze steady. Tia's sat next to him, and I can tell she sits a little straighter, taking no precaution with her carefully placed glances she keeps sending his way. The food I've got in my mouth is on the verge of being thrown up at this rate. 

"Draco, where the hell of you been?" I slump further into despair when Pansy Parkinson takes the free space on the other side of Malfoy with Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott crowding further as they take the empty seats on my bench, barely taking notice of me as all eyes turn to Malfoy.

"Filch was being demented as usual." Malfoy says. I glance up from my plate at him only for my eyes to snap back down as his smirk widens when our eyes meet. And his friends roll their eyes and add more comments of distaste. About Filch. About the food. About how _fucking_ long the Sorting Ceremony was.

But it all gets cut off again when a rush of new whispers floats through the tables. I immediately look to the entrance of the Great Hall to see Harry walking quickly towards Gryffindor table with a bloody rag clutched to his nose. I don't bother trying to meet the eyes of my friends, to try and express sympathy or to try and diminish any growing thoughts about having had something to do with Harry's broken nose. 

Because it was the three of us that were the last to enter. Two Slytherins and one Gryffindor, an injured Gryffindor, never looks good. And the fateful idea is confirmed when Darcy opens her mouth once again.

"Looks like Aurora's finally ragging on Gryffindors." She mocks. Curious glances make their way to me from Malfoy's lot of friends. My grip tightens on my fork, and I attempt to bite my tongue while letting Darcy say whatever she wants as I try to convince myself it doesn't really mean anything and the rumors will be gone by tomorrow. But Malfoy clears his throat, correcting Darcy's statement, but keeping his eye straightforward on me.

"Pierce doesn't know how to curse a bloody fly. If only she'd arrived before the Sorting Ceremony. I would have thrown her back amongst the First Years to have her resorted since she's all too eager on pretending she's anything more than a Slytherin by accident." His friend's earlier murmurs of curiosity turn to malicious agreement as they chuckle. 

It's their laughs that cause me to finally break my silence, having had enough embarrassment for one day. "I'll remind you that I come from a long line of Slytherins. All pureblood, Malfoy, since that's something you like to emphasize. And since you believe that being a Slytherin means being a prejudiced arse, I'll remind as well that I'm the daughter of a Death Eater and know plenty of curses, if not more, then you will ever be able to study." I slam my fork down before pushing away my plate. 

Malfoy looks at me blankly. His smile gone and his eyebrows knitting together as he looks almost shocked. Everyone around us went quiet at the words ' _Death Eater',_ and it's only another reminder of the ties that go further than my father, and my mother in secret. The ties that invisibly bind Malfoy and I together across the wooden table with scattered food strewn over its surface. He goes to say something else only to be stopped by a booming voice at the head of the Great Hall.

Every student's attention goes to Dumbledore as he readies himself at his ornate podium. A small smile settles on my lips at the fact I finally got the last bloody word with Malfoy, and as much as I hate the suspicious stares from my House mates at the carefree mention of my father's dealings, it felt good to have freely said it. I'm too busy hiding my own association. There's no need to focus on hiding my fathers as well. 

"Good evening." Dumbledore calls out. My smile fades when I bring my focus to him as he looks out over all his students. And a single thought flies through my head that confirms my loss of appetite for the rest of the night.

_This is the last time he's ever going to get to do this._

I brush away the thought before I find myself curiously glancing at Malfoy. His expression has fallen even further from before. He's only taken a single glance at Dumbledore before he turns back to his plate, not bothering to touch it as he seems to zone out his surroundings. 

"A few announcements before we begin." Dumbledore continues. "I'd like to introduce a new professor. Professor Slughorn will be charged with Potions classes this year." I take notice of the new professor who stands shakily from his table, waving with a much too enthusiastic smile plastered on his face. His clothes look like they're from ages ago like he dug them out as a reminder of his glory days as a professor at Hogwarts.

"I'm not looking forward to Potions." Prudence murmurs. "Especially not with him." She adds, knowing we can no longer hope for favoritism points under Snape.

"And Professor Snape will now be head of Defense Against the Dark Arts." Dumbledore says, causing an eruption of cheers from our table. And even though I'm wary of the new Potions professor, Snape seems more fitting for the Dark Arts anyways. 

The cheers die down and Dumbledore takes a long breath before speaking. It's a breath that ensures I won't be liking what I'm about to hear. "Now, I want to address you all. You may be wondering why you were all searched tonight upon your arrival. You see, there are dark forces outside these walls. Dark forces that will try to entice and to harm you. But there was a time when those forces walked through these halls. A student, not entirely different from you and your peers. Tom Riddle." 

My eyes flutter at the singeing sensation within my arm. It isn't painful by any means, almost as if it were waking up to the sound of his name, his true name. But it's enough to have me tucking my hands in my lap, under the table, away from view. 

Malfoy's barely moved.

"And I want you all to know that as those dark forces attempt to penetrate the castle walls, understand that there is no greater weapon than you." Dumbledore's words phase out as my focus falls back to Malfoy. And perhaps he was listening to Dumbledore's speech because the last sentence causes him to snap out of his inattentive composure, only for his gaze to meet mine.

And there's an understanding between us. The first we've managed without an argument.

Dumbledore not realizing how true his words are. The threat no longer lying outside of the protected walls of Hogwarts.

Malfoy looks at me with those grey eyes clear as the full moon tonight. They're filled with our understanding. 

The dark forces are already here.


	7. Luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Sometimes I'm terrified of my heart; of its constant hunger for whatever it is it wants. The way it stops and starts.'
> 
> -Edgar Allan Poe

It's the first day of classes, and I haven't slept.

Early morning light reflects off the Black Lake and seeps through the barred windows. I pull my covers over my eyes as it slips through a crack in the closed curtains of my four-poster. The green fabric casting a sort of haze that makes me groan into my pillow. 

It only takes another minute for the bleeding sunlight to push me off the edge. I'm hastily ripping open the curtains and stumbling out only to get a directed groan from Prudence. I straighten, suddenly being more wary of my footsteps after I mumble a quick apology her way. Darcy and Tia haven't shifted an inch. Not since they dosed off last night after a long-winded conversation about who got better looking after summer while I memorized the patterns in the wooden canopy above my mattress. 

And after several hours of my tossing and turning, switching the side of the pillow, trying to suffocate under my sheets, Prudence, a light sleeper, sat up in bed with a murderous look in her eye.

"Aurora, I will hex you to sleep if you don't stop making so much noise." Prudence had sighed out, while I quickly pushed out another apology just like this morning. But then her eyes had slowly adjusted to the darkness, watching me flop back down onto my bed resuming my dazed staring into the darkness. She sighed again before she had turned to me. "You're not usually this annoying. Something on you mind?" 

I moved my eyes to her, promptly sitting up at her question before running my hands over my face, feeling exhausted but not in the way that makes you physically tired. "Just nervous for classes to start." I said, once again pulling shadows over the truth. Never been the type to sleep with sweaters on and now it's become a habit, carefully slipping one on before anyone sees what they shouldn't. The familiar dark green thread knitted by the hands of Molly Weasley being the only comforting thought I can associate with the new habit.

Prudence rolled her eyes, the whites gleaming as she smirked at me. "You of all people should be the last person to be worried about coursework. You're far too clever in school." She encouraged. I produced a weak smile at her words. "And besides, you're friends with Granger. Bloody irritating how smart she is, but I'm sure she'd let you nib off her homework if you're really worried."

"Right." I'd said. "You're right. Sorry for waking you." I carefully pulled closed my curtains while Prudence offered an encouraging smile before settling back in her bed. Her breathing evened out in minutes. And although the drapes had added an extra layer of darkness, it didn't stop my mind from wondering.

About school. About the task. About whether Hermione would even be willing to talk to me after what happened at the Great Hall. 

My only hope from the whole incident was Harry's sheepish smile as he passed me leaving the Great Hall, blood still staining the tip of his nose. But the hope didn't hold on for long as the hours in the night dragged on. I was mentally repeating a practiced speech about how I wasn't the one to break Harry's nose when the sun cracked over the skyline of the Black Lake.

And now I'm sleepless and probably the only one awake at this hour.

I lighten my steps as I walk past a sleeping bodies, gathering my uniform before heading to the lavatory. I let warm water run through my hands before I splash it onto my face. My knuckles whitening as I grip the edge of the sink while I bring my eyes up to the mirror. I suck in a breath before I can help myself.

Dark circles rim my hazel eyes, with red tinging the edges. My pale skin looks ghastly in the early morning light, with my black hair like a hood around my face as its tangled ends fan out. 

And as my eyes glance at individual pieces of my features, they begin to work their way down to my forearm, visible now with my sleeves rolled up, and my Dark Mark stares back. The head seems to smile at me from the mirror, like it knows what today means. 

It's not just the first day of classes. It's the first day of working to complete _our_ task.

Malfoy left immediately after Dumbledore had said his last announcement in the Great Hall. Hadn't even bothered with his untouched dinner as he disappeared. I caught no site of his blond hair anywhere in the common room before I made my way back to my own room. And as I busied my head with anything I could think of in a failure of attempts to drift to sleep, thoughts of him would appear every now and then.

How he doesn't seem to be eating. How I'd finally got him to shut up. How he his mind seemed miles away when Dumbledore was talking. 

It wasn't like him. Not that I know the ins and outs of what makes him Malfoy. But his typical heir of hierarchy hasn't been as forced. Not nearly as noticeable until I do something to make him mad and then he seems the most normal. When he's insulting, pushing, glaring, smirking. That's the Malfoy I know. He seems more like a shell of himself lately. And I suppose I could say the same for myself as I pull my eyes away from the mirror.

By the end of all this, I wonder how much left of either of us will be left.

I slip into my uniform and quietly maneuver through my deadly silent room as I grab my books and escape to the stairs leading to the common room. My shoes tap softly against the stone, reaching the second to last step when they falter. 

The fireplace crackles amongst empty chairs, shining a yellowish glow over black and green fabric. Darkness seems to swallow the darker corners of the common room with the tinted windows casting a sage shadow. The black lacquer tables almost disappear without light, save for a single table, illuminated alone, amid the rest. 

Malfoy sits at the table with the scratch of his quill against parchment melting into the noise of the fireplace. His back is turned to me, while he writes carefully. His robe is tossed over the back of his chair with books stacked and scattered around him.

Term technically hasn't begun yet, and Malfoy has never been the type to pour over books. Curiosity wills my feet forward and when my shoes scuff gently on the floors of the common room I see him noticeably straighten before he peers over his shoulder. His initial glare relaxes when he sees it's me, turning it into a purposeful eye roll as he goes back to writing.

"The Great Hall isn't open for breakfast until seven." He whispers.

I don't acknowledge his comment as I circle the table, taking the seat across from him. He flicks his grey eyes up briefly before going back to his writing. There's another book trapped under his other arm with scrawled text and drawings that I can't read from this angle. I try to get closer, but Malfoy abruptly looks up, ceasing my movement.

"Any apparent reason as to why you can never mind your own business?" He asks dully. Exhaustion pulls even at his words. They come out slow and careful like he's being delicate with them. In the dim light his features seem hollowed out. Purple shadows stain his under eyes from lack of sleep and his uniform hangs loosely from his angular shoulders despite his neat placement of everything. 

"Couldn't sleep?" I ask, ignoring his question because I've come to learn his questions never really need answers. They're just insults in disguise. Malfoy leans back in his chair, quill still draped in his slender fingers. 

He looks at me steadily, waiting a few moments before answering. "No." He breathes out as if it's an admittance of defeat. His shoulders dip slightly, and I wonder how many nights he hasn't been able to sleep.

"Me too." I say suddenly. My eyes meet Malfoy's, knowing we share the same reason for lacking sleep these days. I'm not trying to push sympathy towards him, not that he'd ever accept it, but when you have no one else to relate to, it gets harder to ignore the only person that understands.

Malfoy nods, rolling his shoulders as he sets aside his quill in favor of a cup of tea hidden behind his second stack of books. It smells of mint as he brings it to his lips, taking a slow sip while he quietly scans what he's written. All the books surrounding him, there's at least eleven, vary in size. Some look worn, others have yellowed pages and decayed bindings, and there's two that have iron chains clasped around them. I don't recognize any of the titles, but it doesn't take much to notice an obvious theme.

_Dark Magic._

I clear me throat. Malfoy doesn't acknowledge me. "These are from the Restricted Section." I say aloud, gesturing to the books. Malfoy still hasn't looked up, but he offers another nod.

"Finally learning to use your eyes Pierce. Well done." He mumbles. I let out an exasperated sigh, waiting for another moment before I lean forward and take a book from the top of the pile, quickly pulling it away as Malfoy goes to grab my wrist. He's halfway to standing when he recoils his arm in annoyance.

I smirk at him before flipping open to a random page. "Didn't take you to be the heavy reader type." I say as my eyes scan words like _torture_ and _poison_ amongst other killing methods. I briefly glance up to see him glaring back at me, those silver eyes narrowed with distaste as his mouth turns down.

"If I would have known you were going to be such a brat through all this I would have just asked the Dark Lord to kill me instead of having to put up with you." His words come out so straightforward and honest that I actually believe him. I snap the book in my hands shut, hiding away the lovely photograph of the aftereffects to a particular type of poison that boils your insides.

I lean back in, placing my elbows on the black lacquer table. "Why ask the Dark Lord? I can put you out of your misery." I keep a straight face but Malfoy's mouth twitches into a smile.

He huffs out a laugh. "Only in your wildest dreams Pierce. I would be rather embarrassed to be killed by you." He says through his smile. And if we weren't talking about killing each other I'd almost consider myself to be enjoying his company. The sun continues to rise, creating a sort of halo around his blond hair.

"There are worse ways to go." I point out, moving my eyes away from the wisps of his hair that catch the light. 

Malfoy nods in agreement. My thoughts fall to the very real possibility of dying at the hands of Voldemort if we fail. And not just Malfoy and I, but our families. I doubt the Dark Lord would be quick about it. He'd want to make sure we _felt_ the gravity of our failure until our last breaths left our lips. 

But with all his books and supposed research that Malfoy's been working on for who knows how long, it's clear I'm the closest to being killed first. I'm several steps behind his casual stride, just now realizing I should have already had thoughts of murder swirling in my head the moment the Dark Mark latched itself onto my arm.

"I'd rather not find out those ways." I begin to say. My voice stays low as I try to explain a proposition. "I want to help, but I can't do that if you're always doing everything behind my back. Like how did you get all these books and when?" Malfoy answers my question before I can continue.

"Stole them last night." He says calmly. "And I wouldn't have to hide anything if you would focus on the task instead of whether or not Gryffindor's bloody sweethearts are still going to like you after you behave like a Slytherin for once in your miserable life." 

He really is infuriating. Can't answer a single damn question without criticizing something entirely separate. 

I ignore his ironically accurate comment about my friends. "I want to complete the task same as you. I have to." My voice is firm when I say it. I realize it's the first time I've said out loud that I have to go through with this. Because despite everything she's put me through, my mother is the only family I have left. I don't know what I would do if I lost that.

Probably not much considering I'd be promptly killed right after her if we don't complete the task.

Malfoy straightens at my words and a serious look comes over his face. He seems to consider me for a moment before breathing out a heavy sigh. "Meet me in Astronomy tower at the start of lunch." He moves to close his book, gently tucking in the scattered pieces of paper as he stacked them neatly before standing. I stay seated, somewhat marveling at the fact that he might actually let me in on his plan. 

"You sure you won't push me off the top?" I ask sarcastically, although a voice in the back of my head says there's a chance he actually would go through with hurling me over the railing and watching as my body cracked against the stone below.

Malfoy lets a smirk settle on his lips. "Not yet." He says before he turns to walk away, but I stand suddenly, holding out the book I had taken still clutched in my hand. He looks indifferently at it. "You keep that one. Maybe it will inspire you to be more useful." And then I was alone as Malfoy escaped to his room to rid himself of the restricted books. 

I shove mine into my book bag as the first set of students drag their feet down the set of spiral stairs, barely acknowledging me as they slip out of the common room. I end up following what appears to be a group of First Years nervously tripping into each other as they try and figure out the best way to the Great Hall. I cut away from them when they make a wrong turn.

The Great Hall will likely be empty at this hour, which is what I want. I want the space to be alone with myself until my first class while I attempt to busy my hands with breakfast even though I'm not particularly hungry. My appetite having slowly depleted since I arrived back at Hogwarts.

But as I turn the corner, white light filtering out of the hall's doors, my feet stop at the sight of Hermione. She sits alone, pouring over the pages of her Potions book. There were maybe three other students, all spread out, not sitting at their usual House tables. And I must have been staring too long because Hermione raises her eyes, meeting mine with a sympathetic smile spreading on her face.

She gently moves her stuff to the side, and I force a relieved smile as I take the now empty seat beside her. The speech I spent all night practicing gathers at the tip of my tongue only to fly away when she's the first to speak. "You know we don't blame you for what happened to Harry right? He explained everything." 

It's like she read my thoughts as if they were an open book. I nod, feeling silenced by the rush of reassurance. I knew it wasn't likely that they thought I would ever hurt Harry, but still, the hint of the possibility was enough to make me lose sleep. 

She goes back to her book for a moment, while I stir honey into my tea. It smells of _mint_ today. Another minute of silence stretches until it's shattered by Hermione closing her book. "Did Malfoy say anything to you about what happened with Harry?"

I swallow a single sip of my tea as I reflexively shake my head. "No, just his usual snide comments. Why?"

Hermione blows out a sigh as if the subject has been bothering her for a while. "He's just so convinced that Malfoy is a Death Eater. Nothing I say will make him drop it." She frowns at her partially eaten toast. I stay quiet as I mentally figure a way to get information about where all their heads are at and what they know. Any information will at least give me a chance to better steer them away from Malfoy since he seems convinced they won't figure it out as if they haven't already done so.

"What makes him so sure?" I ask.

Hermione pinches the bridge of her nose. "He's still fixated on what we saw at Borgin and Burkes. But aside from that, Malfoy is still Malfoy. Rude and unpleasant but nothing else would indicate him to be a Death Eater." She looks back at me with almost pleading eyes. "You don't have to answer me if this insensitive, but is there any possible way he could be a Death Eater? Harry kept suggesting that Malfoy would need to replace his father, but that theory wouldn't explain people like you. Children of Death Eaters." Her voice is small as she carefully lays out her question.

With how exasperated Hermione looks, I can't imagine how long Harry dragged on with the topic after the nose incident. I subconsciously readjust the sleeves of my robes, turning to face her straight on. 

"There's no way that You-Know-Who would need someone like Malfoy. We're all trapped inside Hogwarts anyways, what use would he be?" My tone stays light as the lie leaves my mouth. And it must have been convincing enough because Hermione relaxes her shoulders slightly.

"You're right." She says like she's trying to convince herself. "I should mention that to Harry. With how sure he is, I swear he's going to result to stalking Malfoy if it means he's right in the end." She laughs at the idea, but I tighten my grip on my cup, smiling as I bring it to my lips to hide the way my mouth falters.

That's the last thing Malfoy or I need. We won't be able to get anything done if Harry's going to be at every turn. If he catches on to the two of us spending any time near each other aside from the casual passing in the halls, Harry will know something's up and it will only urge him to look deeper. He'll be directly in the way, and I'm wary of the lengths Malfoy will go to get rid of him to protect himself and his family. 

"Anyways, enough talk about supposed Death Eaters. We have Potions." Hermione says, standing from the table while she slings her book bag over her shoulder. We leave our half eaten breakfast to go cold.

I step in stride with Hermione as we make our way back to the dungeons, passing the same group of First Years that were lost earlier. We're exceedingly early to Potions. Professor Slughorn isn't even present as Hermione claims a table with only a single girl from Ravenclaw occupying another empty table.

We sit in silence until Slughorn stumbles in, clutching a bag that clatters with the sound of glass as he moves. "Early students." He points out, but his expression is still that friendly glow as if his smile hasn't left his face since his introduction in the Great Hall. 

He mumbles to us to continue as we please while he sets up a cauldron, busying himself as he hums and begins to pour ingredients into the the boiling pot. The steam shifts colors with every addition. Different sounds crackle out as the liquid dissolves each new ingredient. By the time more students come in, Slughorn carefully covers the cauldron, turning with a smile somehow wider than before. 

I listen to Hermione mumble about her fortune and misfortune when it comes to potions. Her story stretching back to Second Year with her first attempt at the Polyjuice Potion that was honestly rather funny. She hits my arm when I accidentally laugh. I'm not terrible with potions, but it's one of the more difficult classes. You could follow the instructions exactly and still mess up and end with something far from the desired result.

The same sense of unsure wariness is placed on every student's face that stumbles in. They all sneak their eyes to Slughorn who stands by his pre-made potions. My eyes move away from my from my book when I hear Slughorn move to close the door to the classroom.

But Malfoy slips in just as his hand reaches the door.

I'm the first thing Malfoy sees before his eyes scan the expanse of the classroom. His long strides moving towards Pansy and Blaise who'd arrived much earlier. I steal my eyes back to my Potions book, trying to suffocate the curiosity about where he's been since we last spoke this morning. The only thing quieting my thoughts being the chance at learning some of his secrets later in the astronomy tower.

"Gather around students. Gather around." Slughorn coos out as he stands beside his table while everyone clumps together in a crescent shaped group. I stand beside Hermione as Slughorn gleefully begins his formal introduction before he steps aside so we can all get a look at the table filled with different colored liquids. Two vials sit beside the still warm cauldron. Both are corked with the liquids concealed in the tinted glass containers.

"Now, students, I want you to introduce a few of the potions you'll be able to brew by the end of term should you succeed in this course. I-" 

The door to the classroom bursts open with disgruntled mumbles coming from Harry and Ron stumbling in. I share an amused look with Hermione, both of us somewhat confused considering we know both of them had zero interest in taking Potions this year. But Harry straightens first, turning to Slughorn.

"I apologize for the interruption Professor. We've just been assigned to your course a few minutes ago." Ron looks sheepishly to Slughorn as Harry speaks for the two of them. 

"No worries my boy. There's plenty of room here for both of you. Grab a book from the cupboard and join the class. We're just about to get to the exciting bit." Slughorn continues to talk, but there's a soft grumble of disapproval that stretches among the Slytherins standing at the edge of the group. But when I glance up to see if Malfoy is one of them, his eyes are practically glazed over as he stares into empty space, head low. 

Slughorn resumes where he was interrupted, not missing a beat as he picks up a green colored vial with liquid splashing around the inside. He raises it into our view, proposing the question of what kind of potion it was. "This potion will have you revealing your innermost secrets with nearly one drop. Can anyone guess what it is?"

"Veritaserum." Hermione blurts out. Slughorn's face lights up.

"Very good Miss..." He pauses as Hermione fills in her last name. "Miss Granger." He begins again. He picks up a larger vial now, the purple glass filled with a thick substance sitting inside. "Now this is a peculiar potion. Rather advanced, although I'm sure you all know it well. It has the ability to alter your appearance to your desired intent by using only a single part of another person."

"Polyjuice." A boy from Ravenclaw says this time from the back. Slughorn nods, setting it aside before revealing the last one sitting in the cauldron. The one he made less than an hour ago.

"Now, despite some very powerful potions sitting beside it, many would argue rightfully so that the potion brewing in this cauldron is the most powerful among them." He uncovers it as spiraling steam lifts from a pearlescent liquid.

"Amortentia." Hermione says under her breath. Slughorn raises an eyebrow, having heard.

"Another correct answer Miss Granger. Would you like to tell me the nature of this potion?" Hermione nods, clearing her throat as she speaks a little louder. 

"It's a love potion. The most powerful one. It smells different according to each person that smells it based on what is attractive to them." The smoke swirls out and it doesn't take long before we all begin to collectively lean towards it.

And it's as if a flood of smells invades my system as I inhale. 

The rose bush outside of my childhood home. The worn pages of books in the less occupied sections of the school library. And the smell of firewood and smoke in the late winter.

The comfort washes over me, and I almost stumble back at the sense of longing that shoots through my chest.

"Although its effects may replicate the feelings of attraction, it is merely an imitation. Love is truly an unconditional attachment that is impossible to develop through the means of potions. But infatuation is best seen through Amortentia. Sometimes developing into a deep obsession." Slughorn caps the cauldron and everyone straightens, clears their throat as the scent leaves their system.

"Be wary of what you brew. Especially today. You have an hour to attempt to brew Drought of Living Death. A rather tricky potion, but I will give you an incentive in the hopes you desire success." He pulls out a clear vial from his pocket, holding it between his thumb and pointer finger.

"One vial of Felix Felicis, or more commonly known as Liquid Luck." And with a single nod of his head, Slughorn sends us off to attempt our fate at luck. My palms feel sweaty with anxious hope.

The Liquid Luck acts as a harmless taunt that could be useful for later. It only takes one glance at Malfoy to realize he's thinking the same thing. His eyes linger on the vial, the first time he's seemed to have tuned in to the class, fixating on the little clear vial. I catch his eyes as we move to our respective tables, passing only briefly before he finds a spot across from mine and Hermione's amongst other Slytherins. But it's the subtle brush that he uses to whisper to me. 

"One of us has to get it." 

And before I can say anything in response, he takes a seat next to Pansy, leaving me to align myself in between Harry and Hermione with Ron sitting across, blocking my view of a suddenly focused Malfoy.

I find the page for Drought of Living Death and start, knowing Malfoy is right. Any help, even that of the potion kind was needed. But as my fingers moved quickly to add ingredients, I can't help but notice how I'm wishing for luck in the act of killing someone. 

I'm cutting up my Valerian root when I look up for the first time since starting with at least twenty minutes having passed. My eyes glance to Harry, and my heart sinks. 

His potion is a smooth liquid as he stirs, and mine is beginning to coagulate despite me following every word of the book's instructions. "Harry, it says to cut." Hermione breaks my stare as she also looks to Harry.

Stress creases her eyes, and her hair has begun to frizz from the steam rising out of her cauldron. "Crush it. Trust me." Harry insists, going back to his potion as he continues to move along with ease. Ron looks up now too. His stirring stick partially melted as he frowns at his black mess of a potion. Confusion settles between us as to how Harry is doing so well.

That's when Seamus' cauldron erupts in the far corner, sending purple smoke in the air while Dean tries to conceal a laugh. I find myself looking around as disaster strikes one student after another. Even Malfoy, who seemed to be doing better than most could be seen rereading the instructions to the potion over and over like they didn't make sense. And his hands seem to scan over ingredients before he attempted to divert from the faulty list of ingredients. 

I try to keep going, but my potion gets worse with every continued step until it was a thick dark green glob that was intent on dissolving anything I put into it. In the end, it didn't even matter as Harry lifts his arm first to signal him finishing. Slughorn smiles with marveled wonder at the nearly perfect potion. I look over to Malfoy as disappointment sits clearly on his face while Harry smiles with success when the vial of Liquid Luck is placed into his hands.

The class gathers around as Slughorn finishes up. Everyone, besides Harry, is a mix of strange smells and distress from our failed potions. And as I go back to my table to grab my things, Malfoy slips by again, getting my attention while he discretely taps his wrist as if to remind me of the time.

_Astronomy tower_.

He mouths the reminder before leaving the classroom, running a hand through his tousled hair.

"Want to come with us to lunch, Rory?" Ron steps into my view with my eyes still lingering on the exit to the classroom. I produce a weak smile, creating an excuse as quickly as I can. 

"I just remembered I have an assignment I haven't started for another class this afternoon. Rain check until dinner?" Ron nods, leaving with Harry as Hermione walks alongside, mumbling her confusion aloud as to how Harry pulled off today. We go our separate ways as I head towards the Slytherin common room, lingering by the entrance until they round the corner.

I turn on my heal immediately, matching my footsteps with the anticipating beat of my heart as I make my way to the astronomy tower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also updated on wattpad (same username and title) thank you for reading so far!


	8. Cabinet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'I wanted nothing but silence, black woods, decay, cold winds; to lie twisted and turned as a serpent to be in unison with a dying earth.'
> 
> -Segovia Amil

I take even steps winding up to the top of the Astronomy Tower.

My chest fluttering as my heartbeat hums in my throat with an unexpected sense of nervousness settling throughout my limbs. I busy my fingers by clutching the strap of my book bag. 

Five more steps.

It only takes one more for me to see the outline of him. Platinum hair shine in the midday sunlight. His sleeves are rolled, revealing taught muscles that are emphasized as he grips the railing. Malfoy's back faces me while he leans, silently looking out onto the expanse of Hogwarts.

I continue my cautious steps even when I reach the platform. A sense of unwelcome company replaces my nerves as the thudding of my heart seems to disturb the silence settled around him.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He says suddenly, still facing out. "You can stop sneaking around. No one else is here." His silver glare finally turns to me when I stand beside him, just a single pace away from the edge. A long, long fall to grey stone.

"Keen on jumping?" My eyes snap up to see him grinning as he takes a slow look towards the spot where my gaze was glued. The little patch of cobblestone that would bring anyone to their end at this height.

"Depends." I say quietly. Malfoy raises an eyebrow, moving his arms to cross over his chest which is covered only by a white button down. His green and silver robes, along with the tie, scattered in a pile by his feet. The edge of the Dark Mark like a stain against his pale features and white shirt.

"On?" He prompts. I let my book bag slide from my shoulders, ignoring the urge to wince at the clattering sound that echoes out.

"On whether you're willing to tell me everything." I say firmly, having had enough of being a part of something as horrible as I am without a single clue about the level of my involvement.

Malfoy doesn't move aside from adjusting his lean against the railing, and I can't help but clench my hands into fists with nerves at how casual he is being that close to the edge of the drop off. "Ask away Pierce." 

I wasn't expecting that. "Anything?" I ask like I'm testing the waters to see if he's messing with me.

"Anything." His mouth molds into his signature smirk. Always on the right side, quirking up ever so slightly, changing his features entirely with the smallest adjustment.

I say the first thing that rushes to mind. "What were you doing at Borgin and Burkes?" Malfoy's eyes threaten to roll. "You said anything." I say quickly, holding him to his word.

He takes a moment. The sound of wind and our breathing whistling through the open top of the tower. "Have you ever heard of a vanishing cabinet?" I shake my head with embarrassment forming as he continues to look at me like it should be something I know.

My brain scrapes for any remnant memory of information about a vanishing cabinet from our Dark Arts classes. But nothing comes to mind and Malfoy scoffs, leaning further against the railing.

"Did your father tell you nothing about the First War?" He says the words under his breath, but I bristle, feeling self-conscious about my lacking knowledge.

"He wasn't around long enough to tell me stories." I say flatly. Malfoy's smirk falters. "How's a cabinet going to help us anyways?" I add defensively.

His face molds back into its cast of arrogance. "Well to start, a vanishing cabinet is a passage of sorts. The new wards around Hogwarts make it impossible to get in or out of school grounds. Our little issue of getting the others inside is how the cabinet helps." Malfoy's face seems to light up as he explains like he's proud of himself for having found the answer to our problem in the first place.

"How does it work?" I begin to connect the pieces as to how the vanishing cabinet would have been helpful in the First War. Hidden passages would have been extremely useful to travel by if you wanted to remain secretive. It would have worked for either side depending on the scenario.

"A passage requires two ends." He explains. "The first being what you and your idiot friends saw at Borgin." I bite my tongue to not snap back at the friend comment.

"And the other end?" I prompt.

"It's at Hogwarts." 

I can only nod as he provides the final piece to the plan. A connection to the outside world. A way in. "We get the others in through the cabinets." I say quietly to confirm it all. Malfoy's confidence fades.

"I wish it were that simple. The cabinet at Hogwarts is broken. The Weasley twins broke it last year before it was hidden away in the Room of Requirement. We have to mend it." He mutters his words in frustration at the additional obstacle we have in our limited amount of time.

"And there's no other way to get inside school grounds?" I ask with far too much hope. Malfoy's probably thought of every other option under the moon. He shakes his head.

"It's the only way. I know how to mend it but it's going to take time." He admits. Our precious, precious time. Taken away by a cabinet that may not even be ready in time while our lives hang by a thread.

"Malfoy-" I begin, my voice wavering with apprehension. He cuts me off like he knows my thoughts.

"I'll work as quickly as possible. And in the meantime, I need you to cover the bases with options regarding Dumbledore. I need to focus on the passage. If any piece of it is wrong, then it could result in part of the traveler not coming to the other side of the passage. It's not just a way in, Pierce. It can be our way out. If things fall apart at the end." His voice quiets at the last words like he's worried someone is listening. Malfoy presses his arms tighter against his chest as if to muffle the Dark Mark. 

A way out. An option I thought would only lead to being killed. If he can mend the cabinet, running, although not ideal, is better than the alternative. If we make it to the end and actually go through with killing one of the most powerful wizards, running is going to be the only option we have left.

We'll be enemies to everyone in these castle walls.

I finally give a confirming nod, accepting his conditions. His shoulders visibly relax. "We can start tonight." 

I cross my arms over my chest, turning away as I scan the expanse of the castle. Malfoy mimics my stance, following my eyes to watch over the open space. Afternoon wind gently blows his hair around his stone set face, all angular and tense like he's always caught up in thought.

"We're really doing this." I say. Not really as a wondering statement, but more of a confirmation as I strip away another wall of disbelief. Malfoy turns back to me.

"Having second thoughts, Pierce?" His voice edges toward teasing, always balancing on a fine line of sarcasm and blunt malice. I can't help but blow out a distasteful sigh, still facing forward, feeling his grey eyes bare holes into my soul.

I've been having second thoughts for weeks. Torturous thoughts about if I'm really ready to lose everything. And as I bring my eyes back to his, meeting their permanently suspicious squint, I can't help but let my thoughts trail to what's at risk. Not just my life, but his life as well. His family. Mine. 

Awful people is what comes to mind whenever I try and think of how to describe the Malfoy family. But years of sharing the same hallways and classrooms and House next to him has only shown me Malfoy's merely a puppet limited by very taught strings with only one recently being clipped after Lucius was thrown in prison. I can feel Malfoy's worry, his determination. It's all carved into his face, marring his young features. It's a mirror.

And the urge is there. First Year Aurora Pierce. Wanting to impress. Wanting to intimidate. Wanting perfection. She'd be excited in this moment. Terribly excited at the calling of importance. To have her common name scribbled in the history books because it's all she's known. A father's legacy filled with mystery and fearful recognition. A mother's anonymity creating a perfect slate for new beginnings. A pretty portrait covering up a carved canvas underneath.

I've already got my fingernail dug underneath the chipped paint, having lost its color from years of nitpicking. It's time to tear off the first piece. 

"When do you want to meet?" Malfoy looks taken aback. I fight the smile that begs to form at having caught him off guard with my response to his teasing. He's not easily impressed and in the rare moment, his face twist into unfamiliar territory, unsure of how to express. It's rather amusing.

"After everyone's asleep. Common room." His instructions are simple and straightforward. I re-shoulder my bag after breathing out an agreed commitment. 

"I'll see you then." I say. Malfoy stays quiet until I urge my legs to move, and they stand at the mouth of the stairs leading out of the astronomy tower when he stops me.

"Pierce." He spits the single syllable. 

And I look back with a raised eyebrow. He looks different in the afternoon light. Color flushes his cheekbones from the wind and his hair isn't perfectly kept for once and with his official robes bunched on the floor and his rolled sleeves, the untucked shirt, I admit he looks...

Charming.

I decide not to dance past the word, settling for a neutral term that doesn't even scratch the surface of a better description he deserves in this moment. But his smile tests me as it forms. It's loose and natural, not forced or rigid with hostility in the way that everyone is accustomed to seeing from him.

"Don't suppose you'd mind stealing Potter's invisibility cloak so we can sneak around tonight without being caught?"

It's such a stupid question. 

But I laugh. It bubbles out and suddenly he's choking back his own laugh, our tired bodies cracking with every sleepless hour that has passed.

"Would have been able to if you hadn't broken his nose." I fire back, letting my smile linger. And he tucks his bottom lip in between his teeth, holding back a wild grin at the acknowledgment of his unhinged habits.

The rest of the day seems to drag on slowly.

Far too slow. I'm distracted half the time, and I even botch a fire spell during Charms that nearly chars my desk to bits. Malfoy burst out laughing at that one.

The monotonous day goes on as usual, unassuming, nothing out of the ordinary. Everything feels so normal. If it weren't for the kick in my heart whenever I passed Malfoy or for the way the passages we read in class have begun to mold into some twisted idea of how it could be used to kill someone, I'd say this year was as typical a start as any other.

All my thoughts jumble together, unable to avoid colliding with lack of sleep stripping away my will as the day dwindles to an end. I barely have anything left in me by the time dinner comes.

Ron eats away while trying to get Hermione to help him with an assignment he claims he's already behind on. But she's glaring holes into the book opened in front of Harry who's pouring over the words like they're holy. 

His Potions book. The worn purple cover faded to a grey that sticks out around the yellowed pages. Black ink riddles every inch and I'm having a hard time reading any of it even though I'm sat right next to him. It looks mostly like corrections to the listed instructions of the potions. Delicate handwriting placed above furious scribbles as rows and rows of instructions are crossed out on every page.

The added words seem dark. But very thoughtful. The only clear notion of the little book was that none of the writings are from Harry.

"He's not better than me." My ears tune into the sentence as Hermione turns, slightly agitated, towards Ron who holds up his hands in defense. Harry looks up from his book for the first time since the start of dinner. 

Ron apparently feels awfully brave tonight because he continues to push Hermione. "All I'm saying is that Slughorn thinks Harry is a genius." He mumbles, and Hermione looks like her good nature has suddenly snapped as she whips her head to Harry.

"I want to know who's book it is." She says firmly. Harry's already closing it, tucking the book safely under his arms, which is more of a guilty action if anything. It's just a book.

"It doesn't matter Mione." Harry says carefully, knowing that despite his recent success in Potions, Hermione knows double the number of spells to ruin his life.

She rolls her eyes before attempting to reach for the book, but Harry stands abruptly, clutching it to his chest. She stares at him standing, eyes wide. "What makes a difference if we know who wrote it Harry?" Her voice wavers towards concern. Harry has moved the book to his side, attempting to stand in a less defensive position.

And I'm not sure what compels me to do it, but suddenly my hand is quickly reaching out until it grabs the worn cover, nearly tearing it off as I take it from Harry's hand. I maneuver out of my seat as I step away from his incessant reaching only to run into someone trying to get to their table for dinner.

"Fucking hell Pierce."

Malfoy steadies me with both of his hands gripping my upper arms. A stern but amused look glimmers on his face, and I take a step back to put distance between us. I turn away to see Harry's eyes squint with hatred. Apparently, his new fascination over his Potions book still isn't enough to make him drop his apprehensions about Malfoy.

Hermione and Ron glance nervously towards each other as Malfoy pushes past Harry and stalks off to take a seat beside curious looks from his usual set of friends. They immediately turn inward with hushed whispers as Malfoy takes his seat.

I use the distraction to read the inside cover of the book. _This book is the property of The Half Blood Prince._

"Who's the Half Blood Prince?" I ask Harry who looks back to me after breaking his lingering glares at Malfoy. My question grabs his attention as his eyes snap to the book in my hands.

He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it almost immediately, deciding against it. His initial anger fading. "I have no clue." He says in defeat.

I look to Hermione. "Well, that settles that." I say, but I know the expression washed on her face. Curiosity is about to take over her mind. I have no doubt she'll probably be scouring the libraries tonight in the hopes of finding out who the Half Blood Prince is.

I give the book back to Harry as we settle back in our seats. Another few minutes pass before I genuinely feel on the verge of falling asleep into my already cold dinner. The brush of adrenalin already fading. And my distracted thoughts cloud my better judgement as my eyes begin to linger towards Malfoy and his friends. 

Pansy, Blaise, and Theo mind their business, carrying on with their usual conversation as they playfully punch and mock each other when one of them mentions something the other's find ignorant. I've never been one to talk with them. They're another group within Slytherin House that I've never made an effort to get to know, making my only assumptions of them to be built by preconceived prejudice.

Snape's words at the start of the term dance in my head. The call to make connections in my own House. And I really hate to admit that the best connections to have are sitting at the end of the dining table. 

Parkinson. Nott. Zabini. All notable family names that continuously make their way through hushed conversations in the Slytherin common room and Order meetings I've eavesdropped on. The sense of aristocracy that surrounds them is enough to make anyone blissfully hesitant about trying to start conversation with them. I wonder how deep the three of them run with Death Eaters or if they simply just hold power in reputation.

My thoughts linger on the three of them until a flash of silver breaks me out of my stare. Malfoy looks back to me, an eyebrow raised in question. I shake my head slightly, brushing off his look before I turn back to my own surroundings.

Ron is talking with Harry about Quidditch and Hermione is agreeing to Ron's request of attending try outs. "You'll come too." She says, looking to me. 

I start to object, really having no interest in Quidditch, let alone try outs. It would be even worse for the fact that I'd be watching try outs for a House that isn't mine, but Hermione insists. I finally concede after another few minutes of badgering as we finish dinner. And when I go to grab my things, exhaustion thinning my last thread, Malfoy looks once more over his shoulder. He smiles.

Actually smiles. One I haven't seen since we were younger. It's reassuring and good natured. And it has me believing I might be excited to see him later tonight. The slight flutter in my chest is entirely surprising as I leave the Great Hall. I brush it off as misguided hope in the idea of Malfoy warming up to me. We're still not at the point of friendship.

Malfoy doesn't make new friends. His tight circle having hardly changed since First Year. But I wonder what it would like to be friends with him. I probably wouldn't like it I decide. The incessant bullying, his opinions on things, the constant competition. It's like a list of reasons to not even test the waters of friendship. We would never agree on anything. We hardly do now.

But I really do wonder. Because what if Malfoy could break his streak of no new friends. Because in the slight chance we make to the end of the school year alive, no one else will be left.

I'll be marked a traitor. An enemy. No one will be there to pick up the pieces of my world.

But he'll be there. At the end of it all. He'll be the only thing left.


	9. Requirement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'I can't exactly describe how I feel but it's not quite right
> 
> and it leaves me cold.'
> 
> -F. Scott Fitzgerald

I lay wide awake as the night drags on. 

It has to be nearing two in the morning when I slide out from under my sheets and sneak out of my room. The soft breathing of Tia, Prudence, and Darcy almost enough to beg me to sleep. My shoes scuff along the grey stone until they reach the common room.

Only the moon illuminates the vacant space. And it shines against Malfoy's pale figure as he turns to me, quirking his mouth into a smile at the sound of my footsteps. His usual mask, not the one from the Great Hall.

"Was starting to think you weren't going to show up." He mutters while leaning against the same black table I caught him at the previous morning. The only difference in him being his clothes. They're casual now with his school uniform being left behind.

I don't think I've ever seen him in jeans before.

The light blue washed denim hangs neatly from his hips. A dark green sweater is pulled over top. The careful knitting far more detailed than the ragged jumper I fished out form my closet before heading down. My pale muddled wool almost too bright in comparison to the forest green fabric contrasting his blond hair.

I clear my throat to get rid of my initial observations. "And miss a late night stroll through the castle? Wouldn't miss it for the world." My delusion forces out words as my body struggles to keep up with the nearing forty-eight hours of zero sleep.

Malfoy puffs out a gentle scoff, probably thinking I'm edging toward insanity. "I don't think I've ever had to wait for a girl before." He says suddenly. Factually. As if the thought simply came to mind, and he thought it to be funny to share. But guilt flushes my cheeks now as I wonder how long I've kept him waiting.

I ignore the other thoughts. The one's that want to know how many girls have run to his side without a moment of hesitation. It's a stupid thought spurred on by sleepless curiosity. An unnecessary one.

I look to my hands as I wring my fingers, hoping the dim light covers my sudden fidgeting. I never thought I'd ever spend this much time with Malfoy. And yet, in the past two days, I've seen him more than my own friends. Both of us caught in our own revels. 

"Sorry to keep you waiting." I say quietly. Malfoy shrugs, standing from the table. He moves to leave the common room without another word, only pausing to grab an apple from the plentiful bowls that normally crowd the study tables. He holds it firmly in his hand as he leads the way into the empty halls.

I walk beside him while we take strides toward the Room of Requirement. Memories of sneaking through the halls to get to the hidden room's doors in Fifth Year flood my mind. Of course, Malfoy knows the way as well, but for different reasons. The word _hunting_ seems appropriate.

We walk in silence with the castle undisturbed aside from the occasional snore of a sleeping portrait that slips out into the calm air. The echo of our shoes intermixing with the whistling wind seeping through the cracks in the stone.

My feet practically drag with every step no matter how much I will my body to keep up with Malfoy's quick pace. It causes me to wonder how many sleepless nights are going to follow me. I already feel miserable, and I know it's only going to worsen as our task nears its end. The idea of suffering before the inevitable is something I wanted to avoid, but now it all seems like wishful thinking.

"Try and lift your feet when you walk, Pierce. Your shuffling is waking the portraits." Malfoy says, not even bothering to glance to me as he always manages to get the first word in whether it's needed or not. After making a point to glare at him, I make an exaggerated effort to raise my feet so they no longer drag. The movement casts an amused smile on his face as it basically looks like I'm marching.

"This more to your liking?" I ask without bothering to hide my sarcasm.

Malfoy's angular features turn to me as the rays of moonlight flash every time we pass a window. "It's an improvement." He whispers back. I roll my eyes, resuming back to my normal pace when he turns away. I don't think he's ever learned how to give a proper compliment. One that isn't quipped with an underlying insult. It's not of his nature.

I go to open my mouth to say something equally undermining back, but Malfoy suddenly sucks in a quick breath before grabbing my upper arm and pulling me aside into the shadows of a large pillar. I manage not let out a noise as my eyes latch on to what caused Malfoy to hide us away.

A lantern glows at the end of the hall as Filch turns the corner. The soft padding of Mrs. Norris' paws beside him as he goes to pass by. But the mangy cat pauses, making both Malfoy and I hastily press our backs against the stone wall, out of view, as Filch murmurs to the cat.

"D'ya sense something?" His scratchy voice cracks out as the cat continues to stall. I've stopped breathing as Malfoy tilts his head back so it rests against the chilled stone. 

His eyes flutter close as we wait patiently for Filch to leave. But I'm far too distracted by something else. His hand has fallen from my forearm to where it now rests just above my hand. His cautious grip stays safely wrapped around my wrist in the silence. And he doesn't move it. Its presence being the only thing I focus on as the wavering stillness continues to pass.

It takes only another moment of waiting before the resumed steps of Filch signal our sign to emerge from the hidden corner. Malfoy is the first peer out into the open space, stepping out of the shadow when the coast is officially clear. His hand drops from my wrist, and he resumes his walk to the Room of Requirement. But it's as if I can still feel the ghost of his grip brushing just below the fabric of my sweater.

"Should have worked harder at steeling Potter's invisibility cloak." He mutters softly as we climb a set of stairs. I stifle a laugh at the comment, readjusting the cuff of my sleeve.

Neither of us say another word until we're standing before the tan, brick wall. To the unknowing eye, it resembles any other wall in the castle. The previously destroyed entrance now carefully put back in place and magically sealed to prevent them from crumbling after Umbridge had forced her way in. 

Malfoy walks up to the wall, pressing his free hand against the stone. But it stays as a wall. The expected carvings of the door never appearing as he steps back beside me. I look up to him, and he motions me to go to the wall. 

"Open it." He says quietly. I'm about to retort and ask him why he can't do it, but it dawns on me that he may have never entered the Room of Requirements the correct way. The only time he's seen the inside is when Umbridge blew the door in.

I step forward while he stays back, cocking his head to the side with curiosity while my eyes close, and I think about why I desperately need the door to appear.

Our family's lives. My life. Malfoy's life. And our escape.

The emotions flood through me, and my eyes open to the sound of shifting stone. Malfoy lets out a whistle.

"You're more useful than you make yourself out to be." He says. I look over my shoulder with a glare.

"It's simple magic Malfoy. Figured all those months of trying to break in would have taught you something." I quip back. He grumbles something under his breath that I can't hear as he pushes past me at the opening of the door.

My feet don't move as I stare after him until he turns with an annoyed expression forming on his face. "I'm not about to have to wait for you twice in one night." He snaps before moving deeper into the room without checking to see if I'll follow.

I wait another second before I enter, taking in the many differences to the once empty Room of Requirement now filled to the ceilings with every object imaginable.

Old chairs sculpt their way to the top. Rugs are piled in unorganized groups throughout the stacks of overused books and abandoned broomsticks. I even hear birds chirping from a collection of cages as my eyes find their newly made nest.

The piles extend as far back as I can manage to see, and it looks overwhelming. My lacking ability to see the back wall sends worry about how long we're going to be wandering around trying to find the cabinet we need.

"Malfoy," I start, "do you have any clue where the vanishing cabinet is?" I ask, hoping he knows exactly where it is and the steps I'm following of his aren't as lost as my own.

We pass a collection of empty portraits, and Malfoy still hasn't answered, giving me the assumption I wish wasn't true. I'm beginning to pull out my wand as a last ditch effort when Malfoy stops beside me. He steadies my hand with that same firm grip from back in the empty hallway.

I follow the gaze of his silver eyes as they stay fixed on a large piece of furniture hidden away by an ornate blanket stitched with various patterns and finished with tassels fastened at the corners.

"This is it." Malfoy says, still looking at the obscured object. I want to ask how he knows, but he steps forward and grabs a fistful of the blanket before ripping it down. Dust erupts around us.

We both release a cough as the months of abandonment settles. A tall black cabinet stands before us. Its carefully carved doors look sinister like it's asking us to open it. And it's when my hand reaches out to trace a particularly beautiful swirl in the smooth wood that I notice Malfoy staring.

Not at the cabinet, but at me.

"What?" I ask, moving my hand back to my side, feeling self-conscious. He has a way of making you feel small without having to say anything. And even in the most casual exterior I've ever seen him in, he still has that sense of pride about him. 

Malfoy drags his eyes away from me to direct them to the cabinet. "Fascinating isn't it?" He asks quietly. I nod while I go to stand beside him as we both look and indulge.

"So, this is our passage to the outside world." I confirm, wondering if Malfoy knows enough to show me how it works as curiosity bubbles the longer we stand looking at it. 

And perhaps he does because he nods, taking a step forward and producing an old key from his pocket. "A bit dramatic for a key." I tease, thinking we can use a simple unlocking charm to get it open. But it's as if everything as an extra layer of information that only he knows and has clearly neglected to tell me.

He lets out a low chuckle. "Old magic requires old solutions. Besides, they can't just have anyone using the cabinets. This little key has been charmed to give us the only access to either end. My mum has the other one." He says, looking to me with a look of success spread on his face.

"It's our cabinets." I say, almost giddy at the sense of secrecy. But Malfoy stops my excitement with an arrogant sigh before he corrects me. 

"It's _my_ cabinets. I'm allowing you to have occasional access to them." I roll my eyes, finding the clarification unnecessary. And before I can say something snarky back, he turns and goes to open the cabinet.

The old key slides in perfectly to the lock that's carved into the wood the same as the other sculpted details. Malfoy takes in a soft breath. The key idle in the lock before he turns it. The door clicks and slowly opens like the first stretch after a long sleep. It reveals a dark interior, mirroring its decorative exterior except for the fact that it seems to be gaping open. An endless pit that is far too inviting as it begs to be used after years of gathering dust.

We stand in silence again, taking in every moment of the night as it reveals itself. I speak first. "How does it work?" We stare at the cabinet as Malfoy lets out a low chuckle.

"Patience isn't your thing is it?" He asks. I go to look at him, now coming to expect his smirk of disapproval towards everything I do or say.

"Not really. Sort of like how you never fail to be an arsehole every day." I fire back. My short temper showing in my lack of filter. Malfoy bristles, but relaxes as quickly as his initial reaction came, straightening back into his usual stance with its matching smile like he finds the insult amusing. He turns to me fully. The cabinet facing his back.

"If you're all eager, why not give it a go?" He steps closer to me, looming in his height as the grey light seems to cast a larger shadow around us. My breathing is short as I softly clear my throat.

"I'd rather leave it to you. I know how much you enjoy being a showoff." Our whispers mix with the chirping of the birds that have sung throughout the night at the sound of our voices carrying through the otherwise empty Room of Requirement. 

Malfoy hums a sound of approval before turning away, bringing his attention back to the cabinet, only taking on my insult with pride. He reproduces the apple when he nears the door. It's pale green color high in contrast as he places it inside the black expanse of the cabinet. The doors of the cabinet ache as he closes them, moving back as he pulls out his wand. The flash of green from the apple disappearing behind the black entrance.

His other hand grabs a small piece of paper from the same pocket that held the key to the cabinet. Smeared writing dirties the yellowed page. "Instructions from the clerk at Borgin and Burkes." Malfoy says without looking up. "Stupid git thinks the one we bought from him in Diagon is broken. I doubt he knows this one even exists."

Malfoy says the words calmly, almost to himself. And it's become very apparent that every piece of his plan is deeply thought through. As if he conjured up every aspect of what could go right and what could go wrong and thought of a way to keep it all going straight towards a successful finish.

I don't ask what's written as I wait patiently for Malfoy to demonstrate. He seems to whisper the words to himself briefly before raising his eyes to the cabinet once again. His steady hand readies his wand, aiming it at the cabinet. 

We both seem to stop breathing as Malfoy finally says the incantation. I can feel the magic seep off of him as the he forces the words out. " _Harmonia Nectere Passus._ " His voice stays firm as he repeats it four more times. The chant stills the air, but the cabinet doesn't shift, staying just as still as how we found it. 

Malfoy lowers his wand, staring intently at it before his curiosity finally gives out and he goes for the handle. He breathes out a heavy breath when we both see the apple still inside. He pulls it out, looking down at it with a frown creasing across his face. 

I stay quiet, my nerves beginning to spark as I see Malfoy's grip tighten around the apple, his eyes becoming stormy. The silence continues until Malfoy turns abruptly and slams the door to the cabinet and it groans in response with its door staying closed. 

"Malfoy," I start, and my voice goes soft as those grey eyes snap to me. "Malfoy." I begin again. "It's only the first night. I could feel the incantation. It'll work, but it's going to take time like you said. We're both tired-"

"Don't tell me what I am." He says coolly. Calmly. His temper simmering underneath.

I stay cautious with my words as my eyes brush over his hand still clutching his wand. "You're right. I'm sorry. It'll work soon enough." I say, letting my voice lilt in hope, but it only seems to make him more frustrated as he lets out a scoffing laugh.

"You're acting like we have all the time in the world." He spits, narrowing his eyes.

My face contorts in confusion. Did he expect to finish our task within the week?

"Why are you so rushed about this?" I say, raising my voice, despite my heartbeat racing as his face seems to darken while he angles his head down, casting shadows over every sharp feature.

He laughs darkly with an accompany eye role before he settles back on the cabinet, looking at it with disdain. "Despite what you may think of me Pierce, I have my reasons for wanting to get this done as quickly as possible. One of us has more to lose." He says his words gravely and it's then that I realize what he means.

His father. Locked away behind prison walls, waiting to be freed out of a horrible debt that's bound both Malfoy and me. 

"The sooner we get this over with, the sooner I can move on with my life." Malfoy adds. His anger has subsided only slightly with his grip loosening on the apple that stays by his side. His wand now in his pocket.

I wish it were all as simple as he hopes it to be. As if the repercussions of our actions are going to go unnoticed. When you taunt death, he'll grin back. 

The simple completion of our task isn't going to end everything. It'll only enact something worse. It'll be the confirmation of Voldemort's rising forces. And it's in both our hands. Mine shake. Yet, his stay terribly still like he's been waiting to hold this responsibility for his whole life.

"It's going to change everything." I say, wondering if it's even worth it to try and reason with him. Malfoy's family is one of the only things he truly cares about and it's been taken and fractured. I would rather not think about the lengths he would go to undo it all. 

Malfoy stares at me, silence being the only time we aren't in a limbo of angered words or talk of murder. I prefer it like this. Even when his gaze makes me want to curl in on myself to hide any flaws I'm certain he's picking apart in that brain of his.

Apparently just as tired of the conversation as I am, he avoids my comment completely.

"Have you gotten anywhere in deciding how we're going to go about doing in Dumbledore?" He asks the question like you would ask a question in class. I can't help but let my shoulders dip in disappointment. I'm not sure why I expected more from him. Years of knowing Malfoy from afar have built horrible assumptions that I'm now regretfully finding are built more on truth than I'd like to admit.

And yet, among it all, there's a swell of hope. That perhaps in these agonizing nights I can reach through to him. Scrape up the last ounce of humanity hidden away by years of hateful conditioning. A part of me wants to do this so terribly bad and another part begs to wonder why I'm even considering it at all.

My brain splits as I struggle to untangle my thoughts and opinions about Draco Malfoy. Having never had a single thought dwell on him as much as I do now, and it feels almost torturous. I struggle while thoughts of murder invade every newly cleared path.

"I was thinking to start with a curse of sorts." I blurt. If I were honest, I'd tell him that I hadn't given much thought to my portion of our task, hating that I even have to rifle through ideas like this. But the answer leaves my mouth before I can fully think it through.

"Be more specific." He demands like he knows I don't have anything else.

I mentally file through every form of curse I've learned about, wishing I'd gotten a head start on that book I'd taken from Malfoy as I'm sure it would have better ideas than what I come up with. I nervously glance to around us, avoiding his knowing eyes. But as I latch onto various objects around us, something actually does come to mind.

"A cursed object." I say, remembering details of various cursed objects, their nature, and how to obtain them in Defense Against the Dark Arts. This peaks Malfoy's interest as he raises an eyebrow. Any leftover anger finally gone as his interests find a new home.

"We could give it as a gift." He suggests, and I nod like I've already thought of a plan in as much detail as he has. Malfoy ponders further as if it might be a possibility worth considering.

"Don't suppose you're in possession of any deadly objects we can use?" I ask. There's a sense of relief that rushes through me when Malfoy smiles at the question. However, it's easy to see a pull of exhaustion as the smile seems to melt slowly while he stands less straight with his body slouching more than I thought it was capable of doing.

"Unfortunately, that wasn't amongst my things I brought back to Hogwarts. And with the new security measures, it'll be nearly impossible to get something sent here even by owl. Although I'm sure I could find another way around it. I'll contact my mother and see what she can do." There's finality to his words and I realize that he's ready to leave. His eyes flitting to the entrance of the Room of Requirement in between his sentences. 

The flush of emotion from tonight having faded as we lay out the next step in our plan. I nod to him before we both take one more glance back at the vanishing cabinet. Malfoy being careful to place the blanket over the tall figure while I lead the way back out of the hidden room.

We don't talk the entire way back to the dungeons. The only words being the password whispered from Malfoy with us falling back into the quiet sound of our muffled footsteps when we enter the empty common room. The sky shines a pale dark blue as if to signal the rising of the sun in the next few hours. 

My body already aches at the idea of having to wake up for class in a few hours, and Malfoy must feel the same as he pauses at the staircase leading to the boy's side of the Slytherin dormitory. "If you'd prefer to work on our task during the day so you can sleep..." His words trail off before he finishes his sentence, taking a careful look at the setting moon. "I don't mind." He says finally.

I smile to him from the other staircase, ignoring the sense of confusion as to why he even cares about my preferences. "I don't mind the night." I say, despite my body's ignored cries. "Makes it easier for us to hide what we're doing anyways." I throw in the excuse because I have no other reason to go against his sympathy. Malfoy gives a single nod before disappearing up the stairs.

I stay in the empty common room for only another minute, letting myself continue to look at the spot where he stood. The only thought to break me out of my trance is the alarming idea of worry in regard to him.

Fucking Malfoy of all people.

He's such a confusing person that irritates me beyond belief, and yet, as I drag my feet up the stairs, I wonder about his concerns. His stress. What keeps him awake at night so his eyes drip with sleeplessness. Whether he would go through with all of this if it weren't for his father.

I hope he wouldn't.

I assure myself I wouldn't if I wasn't being threatened and even now, I'm not sure if when the time comes I'll be able to actually finish the task I've been assigned. But I'm realizing there's a new factor consider.

And I hope I'm not confusing my worry with sudden care for Malfoy and his wellbeing. Because I can't have another person's life on my conscious.

I won't survive it.


	10. Swans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'And when I look into the mirror, 
> 
> All I see are the people I could have been.'
> 
> -David Jones

I slept through breakfast.

And Potions. And Charms. And I was planning on throwing out lunch all together until a worried Prudence ripped open the curtains of my bed with a wild look of concern spread on her face and her wand at the ready.

"Fucking hell." She breathes out, immediately pocketing her wand when she realizes I'm curled underneath my covers. The sheets pulled just below my eyes that are now glaring at the sharp cut of sunlight she's let in.

"What is it Prudence?" I mumble, turning away from her so my words get suffocated into my pillow. She lets out a haughty sigh, clearly not amused.

"Have you fallen ill? I haven't seen you all bloody day and everyone has noticed. Figured you'd at least show up for Charms." Her words come out rushed an annoyed. "Everyone has been asking whether Darcy, Tia, or I have smothered you with a pillow." She adds.

I groan, suddenly feeling bad for the trouble I've caused her. "Who's everyone?" I ask while sitting up and pressing the heel of my palms into my tired eyes. My whole body feels rested but also terribly nauseous. That sort of feeling you get when you know you've overslept, and you feel sick from laying down for too long. 

Prudence rolls her eyes. "As if that matters! Seriously, do I need to take you to the hospital wing? You never skip class. You're just like that silly Gryffindor, Granger." I pull my hands away from my eyes, looking up to her. Prudence has her hands placed on her hips and she's glaring like she knows I haven't been paying attention.

"I'll be down for lunch. Promise." I say to ease her away. She bites hard on her bottom lip like she's fighting another chastising sentence but settles for a nod instead. Her robes flick out the doorway before it slams shut, sending a jolt through my still waking head.

I fall back against my pillow with a huff. Missing two classes during the first week of lessons definitely didn't look good. But the dreamless sleep was worth it.

I lay there for a minute until the pattering of footsteps outside the door makes me worried Prudence is going to barge back in with mad furry and drag me to the Great Hall herself. My legs swing out from my bed, and I'm about to attempt to straighten my covers when I notice something sitting on my nightstand.

My eyes latch onto it as the stark white color stands out against the black surroundings of the nightstand and stacked items. A paper swan sits still on top of my Potions book.

I stare at it for a moment before carefully reaching out to unfold it, thinking it was something from Prudence. And then the swan suddenly animates and snaps at me before ruffling its paper, folded feathers.

"Fuck." I hiss, sucking on the paper cut left by the charmed swan. I glare at the figurine and it angles its head elegantly before bowing. The carefully creased wings extend, and my eyes catch neat handwriting peaking under the folds.

I ready my hand once again, inching closer with caution in case the swan decides to bite. But it stays bowed, allowing me to untuck its wings until it unfolds entirely. Perfectly aligned sentences in black ink reveal themself.

I suck in a breath as recognition hits me. 

_Prudence told me you're sick._ _That better be true, or I'll turn her into a rat for lying._ _If you are sick, then it can wait until you're better. But I've found something that can be useful for what you mentioned last night._

_If you're up for it, you know where I'll be tonight._

He didn't even bother signing it, but it's clear who it's from. 

I read the words over and over again. And a connecting thought begins to form. Prudence's mention of 'everyone' noticing my absence. I'd originally thought it was Harry and the others. But Malfoy's words confirm him to be at least one of the people asking for answers from her.

"How are you still in bed?" I jump as Prudence bursts through the room, causing me to crumple the paper in my hands. A part of me feels crushed at the idea of ruining the once delicate swan. But then I remember Malfoy charming it to bite and the feeling subsides.

My eyes latch onto Prudence as she curiously makes her way over to me. I slowly crumple the paper further when I see her looking at my hands. "Bloody thing bit me." She admits, moving her eyes away from my hands to my face. It's filled with too much interest. Like her curiosity is slowly going to eat her away from the inside if she can't know the sudden sense of secrecy I've brought upon myself.

The late night. The late morning. And now, at the worst moment, Malfoy has finally decided to learn how to communicate. 

Prudence wasn't going to accept a vague answer. Her nature tainted by Darcy of needing to know everything was a large reason I never found myself willingly sharing secrets and stories with her. All in spite of my preference of her in comparison to Darcy and Tia with the two of them far too good at pushing someone until they snapped and revealed whatever they were hiding.

Prudence has that same look about her now. It teeters on the edge of being as crazed as Darcy whenever she inches toward any whisper of school gossip.

I tighten my hand around Malfoy's note, secretly hoping I can unfold it again in privacy. "Just something from a friend." I say, already knowing Prudence is going to ignore my answer.

But sympathy is on my side this morning as she goes to say something deciding against it. "Well, tell your friend to make their charmed paper animals less violent." She huffs as she runs a thumb over the side of her hand. A red sliver shows, similar to the slice across my finger.

Malfoy would smile at the idea of his biting swan. Of course, only he would focus on the violent aspects of a normally beautiful creature. 

I smile apologetically, whispering my words of reassurance that I'd meet her in a minute. Prudence lets me be as I escape to our shared lavatory to wipe the remnants of sleep away. I make sure to shove Malfoy's note to the bottom of my book bag before I leave. 

I charm my hair to lay flat instead of the tangled clumps it was in before. I run water over my face until I feel clean and switch into my robes, carefully smoothing down my sleeves like always.

As I'm leaving the lavatory I practically run into Prudence once again while she was waiting patiently outside. I release a frustrated sigh. "Why're you so bothered by me missing class?" I grumble out as she hardly gives me time to grab my bag before pulling me out of our room.

"You try being harassed by a bunch of Gryffindors and Draco Malfoy." She says under her breath as we storm through a group of First Years that keep to the walls at the site of Prudence's wild expression. Her chocolate curls swaying around her perfectly angled face and brown skin marking her as still strikingly beautiful but in a more threatening way as we head to the Great Hall.

I let a smile slip at her words, forcing myself to believe it's for my friends in Gryffindor and not the other person's name she threw in. Although the weight of his note, a particularly out of character piece of him, sits heavy in my bag.

Prudence notices the smile out of the corner of her eye. "And now you don't mind attention. What the bloody hell has happened to you?" She curses as we round the corner with several other hungry students eager for lunch.

"I've just never seen you like this since our OWLS. It's amusing to see you this flustered." I say in excuse. We collectively enter the Great Hall, and I'm able to loosen Prudence's grip only slightly to stall at the entrance.

I catch site of Ron, Hermione, and Harry, all huddled around their usual spot at the Gryffindor table as recognition comes over them when they look my way. There's also a look of relief that strikes Hermione's face, and I'm not entirely sure why, but it makes me uncomfortable.

I can miss class. It's not the most novel thing in the world. However, I suppose if Hermione ever missed a class, Hogwarts would burn down.

Prudence's comment about Hermione and I being similar in our commitment to school wasn't far from the truth. Even though I hardly put in nearly as many hours as she does. And yet, missing class was still a foreign concept nonetheless.

My feet naturally attempt to walk over to sit beside them only for my arm to be reclaimed by Prudence as she drags me away to Slytherin's traditional table. I shoot an apologetic look to my friends before shifting the look into an annoyed glance at Prudence as she essentially throws me onto the bench beside Tia and Darcy who've already began their lunch.

"What's this?" Darcy asks before she takes a bite of food. I look to Prudence for an answer.

She glances between all of us, taking careful time to glare over at the Gryffindor table although none of the occupants are even looking in our direction aside from a worried glimpse from Ron that's immediately turned away by Prudence.

"You both can't sit here and say that Aurora hasn't been weird since we came back to school. She missed all her lessons this morning, and I found her half dead in bed." She grumbles, not bothering to hide her exaggeration. Tia elicits a laugh.

"You're being silly Prudence. She was probably just tired. Right Aurora?" Tia offers, and I nod profusely because it's the honest truth even without important details. 

"Darcy?" Prudence resigns to her for support at Tia's dismissal. Darcy only shrugs as she sips on some pumpkin juice before giving her piece of opinion on the matter.

"You have been a little weird." She finally says, causing me to sigh immediately after the words leave her mouth. Prudence looks back to Tia and I with confidence at the agreement of one other person in her statement, even if it's Darcy.

"I haven't been acting weird." I say, bringing my eyes down to my filled plate of food I haven't bothered touching. The nauseous feeling from this morning still lingering. My hands stay folded in my lap while Darcy explains.

"Well, on the train you barely told us of your summer until I brought up the Malfoys. And I may be a deep sleeper, but I occasionally wake up in the middle of the night and you were nowhere to be found. I guess the missing lessons thing is weird too. You're normally on top of your schoolwork." Darcy lists it all as if she had been dwelling on it for a while, giving many instances I haven't even considered.

By their standards, I suppose it has been somewhat out of the ordinary. Having lived with me for five years now, they would be the first set of people to notice a sudden change of habits. I try and think of an excuse that won't lead to more questioning, but Prudence interjects my thoughts.

"Yes! And about the Malfoys, I've never shared a bloody word with Draco Malfoy and suddenly he's sat near us first night, and he's harassing me about Aurora's whereabouts as if I keep track of her. I'd like to at least attempt to make it through our first week back without having to worry about being cursed." Prudence complains.

These complaints only gain further interest from Darcy. She sits straighter as the filter of gossip reaches her ears.

"Malfoy _has_ been more present than usual." She agrees pointedly. 

My hands tighten around each other under the cover of the table. "My mother deals with his father's incarceration and his mother's current parole. He just has questions about it sometimes." I say quickly, sticking to my same explanation from the train. Darcy narrows her eyes, probably still put off at the excuse that shattered her piece of gossip she had been so eager to share on the train.

"And," Prudence blurts like she's ready to add more fuel to an uncontrollable fire. "Aurora got a charmed note this morning. Folded like a swan and everything." 

"That's none of your business." I snap, wishing I hadn't because it only makes me seem more suspicious as Darcy leans forward. Even Tia begins to look suddenly interested. I suck in a careful breath, fighting to find words to explain a note that only I was able to read considering its design to bite more aggressively when Prudence tried to open it. 

Serves her right for being overly curious.

"It's none of your business." I repeat. My voice stays calm, but there's a tinge of tiredness wrapped in it. I hadn't expected to be interrogated this morning and the conversation has only given me more reasons to be increasingly careful about sneaking around. I suppose I never considered that any of them would care enough to notice. It's a touching thought, but entirely the wrong moment for them to show it. 

"My, my." Darcy grins, leaning back slightly as mischief creeps into her features. "Does our Aurora Pierce have an admirer?"

My mouth hangs slightly ajar. 

"I-" My words jumble, and it hammers another nail into my coffin as delight spread throughout Darcy before she cuts me off as I try to put forward a better reason.

"Is that why you're gone all night? And the note! It all makes sense!" Darcy says proudly like she's managed to connect all the pieces herself. Prudence and Tia turn to me and it takes all but a single glance at both of them to realize they're jumping to the same conclusions that Darcy's placed in their heads.

And I should be panicking. I should be telling them they're wrong and it's all a misunderstanding while designing some elaborate story to get them off my back for another week. But I don't.

I don't object because it's perfect. It's a perfect excuse to ease their suspicions. And it's far better than the truth. 

"Please keep it a secret." I spill. Better to let them run with the ridiculous assumption until they forget about it. Darcy practically squeals as Prudence and Tia's jaws drop.

I blush furiously, only making it all seem truer, but I'm just shying away from the new eyes lingering over toward us at Darcy's noises.

Prudence eases out of her initial shock, leaning forward so only the four of us can hear. "Well, go on. Tell us who it is!" She exclaims as Darcy nods so vigorously I worry her head might snap off.

I bite on my bottom lip at the demand. Maybe the excuse wasn't entirely perfect. "I don't think they would appreciate me saying their name when I'm not entirely sure where we stand." I say vaguely, trying to buy myself time to think of a name.

My limited list of options has suddenly gone from slightly embarrassing to annoyingly lacking in my greatest time of need. I have never wanted to have a longer shag list in my entire life as Darcy starts a sort of chant of begging me to give a name.

"What do you mean you don't know where you stand? He bloody left you a charmed note." She exclaims. My face twists with further embarrassment as I hush her at the turning of more heads.

It's just a note. 

"Is it someone embarrassing? Please don't tell me you've fallen for a Ravenclaw boy. I swear, they'll talk your ear off until you're dead asleep. Arrogant, every single one of them!" Tia adds, having had the most experience in playing outside of our own House. Prudence and Darcy stick more to our own population of Slytherins, with the occasional betrayal from Prudence when she gets bored.

Myself, on the other hand, has only had a handful of messes that never led to anything more than a few bad kisses and playing into adolescent curiosity. Silly crushes and my first taste of firewhisky led to mistakes I have thankfully forgotten about with time. Tia is right about the Ravenclaw boys. And there was that one Hufflepuff I suppose. The Gryffindors feel oddly forbidden, however. Even with the blurred House lines my brain tends to skew.

And of course, there is the small collection of Slytherins. Those I'd seen in the common room every day until an incident led to purposeful distance. One being my firewhisky mistake. Another a Potions partner that only wanted better marks. 

All a waste of time ending with something not entirely different from regret but more of a forceful conviction of a learned lesson. I'm not even sure I could convince myself to act like there was renewed, secretive interest between any of them now. Besides, knowing my dorm mates and their inability to keep their mouth shut, I wouldn't want to give a name only for them to harass the poor bastard.

"It's not someone embarrassing." I resign, still balancing on what I should tell them, having just dug myself into a hole far too deep to claw my way out of.

The true sender, Malfoy, would be the last person I would think of in being described as embarrassing. He's frightful and too well known for all the wrong reasons. He's rude. He's arrogant. And admitting that he sent the charmed swan would only add a layer of confusion to everything.

He only sent it to get information to me.

I try and cement the thought in my head, smashing every other idea as to why he had to be so careful in its delicate folding. He could have just found me later to talk, but he sent a biting bird instead. It was so like and unlike him all at once. It's even more startling to think I have any sort of idea about his common habits and inclinations.

"You can't just say there's someone and not tell us. Otherwise, it's as if you made the whole thing up!" Darcy accuses, filled with exasperation.

I huff out a sigh, wishing I'd just forced myself to go to class this morning so I wouldn't be having this conversation right now. "I promise you I'll tell you if it becomes important. It's only the first week of term after all. It'll all be forgotten by the weekend." I say the words so forcefully that's enough to make them drop the subject. Though not without a few grumbled comments from each.

"It's a Ravenclaw boy." 

"Can't believe you're all interesting now." 

"Fucking paper swan actually bit me."

We stay quiet for the remainder of lunch. I've pushed my food around my plate for probably the fourth time when I feel like I've exhausted my time at a meal I wasn't even bothering to eat. But knowing Prudence, she'll keep me until the start of everyone's lessons for the afternoon just to make sure I don't sneak back into hiding.

I stare at my plate because it was better than catching the suspicious glances of my dorm mates. And the cycle seems endless until it gets abruptly cut off.

My breathing suddenly cuts short as I suck in sharply with my fork clattering against my plate. For the first time since arriving back at Hogwarts my arm feels on fire. 

The burning sensation cuts so deep that my fingers flex entirely numb. I quickly stand, needing to get away from the lingering crowds of the lunch hour.

Prudence rolls her eyes, thinking I'm putting on a show. "She's back to being weird again." She murmurs to Darcy and Tia. Darcy lets out a giggle, but Tia begins to look concerned as I glue my hands to my side to prevent clawing at my arm until I'm out of site.

"Everything alright?" She asks cautiously as I shoulder my book bag crazily, entirely blinded by pain that I don't even respond as I essentially sprint out of the Great Hall.

My breathing is labored as I turn the corner without looking only to run into something. Or more like someone.

"You're going to fucking kill yourself if you keep going places without looking." Malfoy's stern grey eyes look down on me as his two hands grasp my upper arms to prevent me from fully stumbling into him.

And I gasp with pain as tears creep to the edge of my eyes. "Malfoy-" I begin, still breathless and newly confused as to why he doesn't appear to at least be wincing in what should be our shared source of affliction.

Instead, he ushers me to the side, tucking us away into an alcove several paces away from the students entering and leaving the Great Hall, only dropping his hands from my arm when we're fully hidden. It's in the brief seconds that pass where the pain almost entirely vanishes. There's only a static sensation lingering at my fingertips as I flex my hand again, almost grateful to have not cut it off at the Slytherin table.

"All right?" He asks after a moment. My eyes snap up to him after glancing briefly at the where the previous placement of his hands were. 

"How did you not feel that?" I hiss, ignoring his vague question entirely and jumping to conclusions all together. Malfoy frowns slightly, leaning back against one of the alcove's pillars to put space between us.

"You idiot." He breathes out. "I signaled for you." I stand still with my mouth ajar as he waits for me to process before explaining.

"Figured out from my father how to do general communication through the Mark in sending updates. If you concentrate hard enough on a single person, the message will be more pronounced." He says simply as if he hadn't nearly set my arm ablaze in front of a third of the school. 

I gawk at him. "I didn't get the bloody update message from whatever it is you did. I thought the fucking Dark Lord was about to burst through the Great Hall." I say in a hushed shout, being mindful of the occasional student passing by our small hideaway.

Malfoy's frown deepens. "Must have focused too hard." He offers as an excuse instead of an apology. I run my hands through my tangled hair, finding my first interaction with him of the day already filled to the brim with frustration. 

"What is it you were updating about anyways?" I ask, suddenly curious about the supposed message I wasn't able to focus on because of Malfoy's user error. "We haven't accomplished anything." I state plainly.

Malfoy tuts, his mouth quirking upwards. "Such little faith Pierce. Just an initial update that we've gotten things underway even if we're slightly stalled at the moment." He says confidently, crossing his arms over his chest.

He's all dawned in signature Slytherin robes, and for a moment my mind falters in thinking it's unusual after having seen him more and more in a less put together state. I fight to shake my head at the thought, finding it odd that I might prefer him more in jeans than his expensive and perfectly pressed black trousers.

"Did your mother have any ideas about cursed objects?" I ask, feeling the sudden weight of his update to Voldemort and the other Death Eaters as it seems to be rather premature even if he was only doing it to speak directly to me. Malfoy raises an eyebrow at this.

"You go missing all morning, and you've suddenly become proactive." He muses, crinkling the corners of his eyes as his smile deepens. "Speaking of, where did you disappear off to this morning? Never responded to my first message, hence the Dark Mark thing." He explains it all as if either should make sense when in actuality his method of communication involved one biting me and Prudence with the other having the power to throw us both in Azkaban by dinner. 

"You should worry about harassing Prudence. Wouldn't leave me alone because of you." I say pointedly. Malfoy and I's questions to each other never receive proper answers as we both dance around the truth with constant teasing. He notices this, rolling his eyes at my clear avoidance of discussing my whereabouts with him.

"I did not harass her." He resigns, grumbling the words as if they were hard to admit. 

"Never mind her, Malfoy. You signaled You-Know-Who that we're underway, and we've only located that bloody cabinet as of last night. What has your mother said?" I ask with such urgency that Malfoy drops the sarcasm, finally giving in.

"She had nothing." He begins, pausing for a moment to let me frown in disappointment before picking back up. "But Bellatrix wrote back with a rather creative idea." My frown turns into a scowl at why he couldn't have just started with that.

"And?" I encourage as he soaks up every minuscule second. At this rate I'll miss all my afternoon classes and be failing everything by nightfall. 

Malfoy's smile turns wry and I already know he's forming some stupid insult. I beat him to it, having a new sense of energy with my growing annoyance. "If you're thinking about saying anything other than what your deranged aunt told you, I will leave this instant and figure out something on my own." I say hastily, catching him just as his mouth opened to speak. 

I knew what had happened between Bellatrix and Harry's godfather, Sirius. It's not my place to defend for Harry, and yet, a part of me shutters with rage at the casual mention of her name. But I suppose these are the people I'm to associate with now. The crazed and murderous. Bellatrix being the best example of them.

Maybe after I've lost everything, I'll have a go at her. 

He closes his mouth now, gathering his shock and smothering it before blinking a few times at the response. "Go on." I say, giving him the time to explain. A small part of my heart leaps at standing my ground against Malfoy. And I suppose a part of me will always celebrate that accomplishment with it being so rare in all of our interactions.

"There's a necklace." He says after a moment. "Back at Borgin. She's having it sent here. Apparently, it's extremely deadly and should do the trick if we can get the old git to simply touch it." I nod at his words, taking it all in, pushing away the intruding thoughts that chant how I should not be this calm during these sorts of conversations. The idea of it all changing who I am is one I'm not ready to face just yet.

"But the security measures." I present the first flaw in our blossoming plan.

"It's all sorted. Your mum is helping get it through the checks during an Auror survey of the castle this weekend." Malfoy explains as it's now my turn to be hit with shock.

I haven't thought much of my mother since arriving back at Hogwarts. The fractured idea of her having dissolved in my head after our last terrible interaction my first night back. I'm not entirely sure why I'm so put off by the idea of her helping us in an important way. It could just be another crack in the failing image of a perfect and loving woman that I've tried to hold onto so tightly. The one who raised me to learn from mistakes not to hide from them until they ruined your life in the future.

This is all her fault anyways. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to forgive her for it.

"I didn't realize she could even do that." I say, having gone suddenly quiet. Malfoy only shrugs, not noticing my new shift in demeanor. 

"She's just going to pass if off as some family relic my mum wanted to have sent to me, I suppose. Wish your mother could get everyone into the castle instead of us having to use the vanishing cabinet. But I guess even her work has limitations." Malfoy offers like he isn't entirely sure of the parameters surrounding this mysterious necklace. It makes me worried.

If all Dumbledore needs to do is touch the bloody thing, it must be very dark and powerful. The thought of handling it sends a shiver down my spine and my brain has already begun routing ways that we can even give to the Headmaster without him suspecting anything.

"We'd have to give it to Dumbledore during an inconspicuous time." I say, letting my thoughts add to the flaws of the plan. Malfoy seems to agree with this.

"Winter will be here in no time. We can pick some neurotic holiday or at the very least wait until Christmas." He decides but I'm apparently in a very problem presenting mood as I push out another objection.

"That's a rather long time away. I know how soon you wanted all this over and done with." I go quieter at the last sentence as I watch something dark descend over his features at the reminder of our conversation last night. He squares his shoulders briefly and turns into the Malfoy that causes every First Year to cower in fear at the mention of his name and the sight of his shadow. 

But I'm used to it by now. It's just another piece of him I've adapted to.

"I don't want to hasten it when it comes to the necklace. From what Bella wrote, it's dangerous stuff. Would rather have it just right until we can find a direct route." I nod at his newfound caution, wondering if my harsh words from the other night hit him harder than I'd meant for them to.

We stand there silently for a moment, having finished the bulk of our talking only to be left with uncomfortable air between us. Our task forming into nothing more than a deadly business deal.

"I suppose I'll be off then. Have some things I need to catch up on." I say vaguely, knowing afternoon lessons are on the verge of beginning.

Malfoy and I share astronomy together much later in the day with our only other two shared lessons having been the ones I graciously skipped this morning. Although in astronomy, he always tends to sit on the opposite side of the classroom with his usual gathering of Pansy, Theo, and Blaise. It's also the only class I'm without at least one of Harry, Ron, or Hermione. And I'm often sat beside a collection of Hufflepuffs and Slytherins that end up sabotaging their own work just to spite the others of a different house. 

I shouldn't even be worrying about what courses I share with Malfoy. I'd most likely see him tonight all the same. His charmed swan still crumpled at the bottom of my book bag as a reminder.

He doesn't say anything initially, giving me the indication to leave the alcove, but he clears his throat suddenly like he's just made a last minute decision.

"Tonight." He breathes out. I turn back to him, shuffling my steps back into the secrecy of the alcove. "I can work alone if you need to catch up on things as you said." Malfoy offers, and I fight the urge to frown at his considerate, but sudden statement. The idea of him being alone in the progress of our task still doesn't sit right with me, especially at his assumption of my already derailing ability to keep up with everything.

I'm shaking my head before I can let my words agree to his offer. "I'm up for it. Promise. I was feeling a little sick this morning, but it's passed." I lie because I don't want it to seem like our late adventure was at fault.

"Besides, I want to learn that enchantment you were using on the cabinet." I add quickly, throwing in every reason I can gather to still see him tonight.

_Desperate._

Hardly. 

I'm _intrigued_. 

_And I don't want him to go on an accidental killing spree._ I add mentally as if it's a reasonable excuse to tell myself until it buries the first conclusion. 

Malfoy narrows his eyes in suspicion, not unlike how Prudence had been all morning. "Alright. But bring that book you took from me. I want to see if we can figure out more to the necklace, so we don't curse ourselves." He commands as I nod gratefully before slipping out and blending in with the crowds of students making their way to class. 

I turn back once, catching site of him smirking at my noticeable glance only for my view to be cut off by the short, black bob of Pansy. Theo and Blaise appear at his side too. Although they follow Malfoy's initial gaze and land on me. Curiosity fluttering between the two of them, making me turn away. 

But as I walk through the crowded halls, a new feeling has found its way into the bottom of my heart. Causing it to beat at an irregular pace as I take the stairs two at a time to see what I missed in Potions before the start of my next lesson.

I can only assume it's anticipation. New and fresh, having found the most unusual of subjects to latch onto.

I'm already wondering if I should ask Slughorn for tomorrow's work as well when I burst into his classroom. My long sleep may have been dreamless, but it felt worthwhile now and the night that unfolded before it was eventful nonetheless.

I resign to labeling my newfound anticipation for the exhilaration that fluttered throughout last night. Not because of Malfoy, but rather the feeling that came with the soft footsteps, and the hiding from Filch, and the Room of Requirement with its new purpose. My brain being sure to leave out the center of it all as I'm weary of what that'll do if I let Malfoy have a piece of my excitement as if he hasn't already found his way in. 

"Ah, Miss Pierce. I didn't see you this morning." Slughorn says cheerfully, looking up from a potion he was smiling over. I mumble a quick apology of feeling unwell before gathering the information needed to catch up at a later time.

And as I slip out of the classroom, I let the kick of anticipation carry me into my first lesson of the day while it tries to claw its way out at the suspicious glances from Hermione who I take my seat next to in Defense Against the Dark Arts. 

It's a small, lingering temptation that I let drift away as I begin my first normal hour of the day. The sun already falling from its midday peak, shining in through the shaded windows as Snape meets my eyes multiple times throughout the lesson with threatening curiosity only for me to glare right back. I don't care what the Dark Lord has asked of him. Snape is the last person I want watching over me.

"Later." I whisper to Hermione as she pokes my arm with high interest about my whereabouts all morning.

It feels very normal despite everything.

I wish the feeling would last. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also updated on Wattpad (same username) and thank you for reading!


	11. Nott

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'We shouldn't be this kind of tired at our age.'
> 
> -j.b. [dying]

I was the one waiting for Malfoy this time.

I'd opted to study in the common room after eating dinner with Hermione and the others. I gave in then, telling them I'd felt sick that morning, but it was no bother now. They seemed to accept it after persistent assurance on my end.

I caught up on all my assignments I'd missed from the morning, having enough time to turn them into the respective professors' offices as the night came to a close. Prudence came over for a bit when I'd returned to the common room, taking the seat opposite to me at the traditional black tables of Slytherin House while she mumbled to herself as she worked through her own homework.

But as the hours stretched on and I stayed put at the table, finding new things to keep myself busy, Prudence finally let exhaustion take her away. She gathered her things, pausing as she stood.

"Should I wait up for you?" She asks cautiously. I shake my head without looking up from the book I was bent over. Only taking the time to watch her go as her footsteps pass me.

More and more students left to go to bed as the night continued. One of the last groups noticeably being Pansy, Theo, and Blaise. Without Malfoy.

They occupied a set of velvet couches in the far corner with Pansy draping herself lazily over one of the armchairs while she read and Theo resting his head in Blaise's lap as they scribbled notes on parchment and took up the entire expanse of the couch opposite to Pansy. All whispering quietly amongst themselves. I try to not let it get to me that Malfoy isn't with them.

Something about his missing presence makes me uneasy. I know he spends quite a bit of time alone as of late, but in the free hours of the day, Malfoy and the other three were almost always attached at the hip in the same way as Ron, Harry, and Hermione are. 

Pansy was the first to go, being sure to murmur something to the other two boys who only shook their heads before she departed. Blaise and Theo lazily got up an hour later, finding their way up to the boys' dormitories.

By half-past midnight, I was the only one left, and it was then that I opted to pull out the restricted section book I'd taken from Malfoy. 

The cover was terribly worn with leather peeling at the corners and pages yellowed and rumpled, making the book look as if it had extra volume despite being well condensed in its actual material. I carefully flip open the front cover to find Malfoy's note from the other morning. 

The once carefully crafted swan now a wrinkled piece of parchment, having lost its trace of magic after I'd crushed it in my hands. The book did no good in smoothening it out with its own binding and edges matching the sad state of the note.

I steal myself as I read over the words once again. Just for reassurance that Malfoy was going to show. Then a second time, just because it felt like it deserved another look.

I crease the note in half, placing it back at the front of the book before thumbing through the pages to get a start on what Malfoy wanted to know regarding our incoming necklace. I skip past the sections on poisons, hoping we'll never have to worry with the horrible effects the book made sure to diagram in great detail. Horrific drawings stare back as I quickly flip to the cursed objects section.

The chapter starts off in great detail about the marvels and history of developing such things as cursed objects with the most notorious being listed alongside a neat list of victims. Some stretched to over half a page. I go through the history quickly, fighting the twisting feeling that's suddenly formed in my stomach. I don't want to know how or why someone would curse a mirror that sucks you into it for all eternity.

The material develops into more practical items if that's what you could call it. Chalices, portraits, and pocket watches litter the page until my eyes catch family heirlooms. I stop hesitantly, remembering Malfoy's half-hearted intuition of how we're to get the necklace into the castle.

_Pass it off as some family relic my mum wanted to have sent to me._

I think I would be pretty pissed to get an heirloom of this sort. But the book describes the reasoning to be set in aristocracy and the fear of those below higher families profiting off of things that did not belong to them. The explanation seems rather extreme especially considering the measures different curses would go to make sure they were left untouched by the wrong hands.

The heirlooms were a variety of things. But there were no details listed about the supposed necklace Malfoy had in mind. Just more generalizations of each curses dangers and how they could be fastened to any object of one's choosing. The section ends, moving onto the wonders of generational curses.

I stifle a laugh at the idea, musing how I essentially already have one of those.

I jot down a few lines of notes about the family heirloom curses, wanting to be able to come forward with the information when Malfoy finally decides to stop making me wait. I reason that I can't get mad at him because of how long he had most likely waited last time and resign to flipping through the end bits of the restricted section book to pass more time and to pique curiosity.

"Some dark reading material you have there." My eyes snap up at the voice, with my mind untangling from the expectation of seeing Malfoy only to be met with a set of blue eyes instead of the familiar grey.

"Nott." I breathe out in acknowledgement, closing the book with Malfoy's note tucked in at the page to keep my spot.

"Pierce." Theodore Nott says coolly, leaning on the edge of a table opposite to me as he gently crosses his legs at the ankles.

We stare at each other for a moment as I inch my arms over the book to hide it away but a grin itches at the corner of his lips when he notices what I'm doing.

"I'm not going to say anything about the restricted book." Nott says briefly. "I'm sure you and your friends in Gryffindor tower have enough on me to combat. Wouldn't be worth it."

I still my arms as I continue to look at him. Soft brown curls and striking blue eyes. Sharp features that smooth out in the right areas. An undone school uniform that still looks put together. The epitome of wealth wrapped neatly with care.

"We don't." I say quietly, feeling as though our voices echo in the empty common room. Nott raises an eyebrow to this.

"Suppose I'm not interesting enough for you lot then." He moves forward, pulling out a chair and spinning it before his long legs straddle while he lazily leans forward over the back rest. Every motion of his is perfectly fluid, making it hard not to watch.

My eyes move back to my texts and notes littered before me just to avoid talking to who's sitting across from me. I will myself one glance as he presses his lips into a thin smile.

"Can't say the same for Draco I'm afraid." He sighs, and I fully meet his eyes only to be crushed in defeat as a smirk forms across his perfect face like he's caught me doing something I shouldn't be. And I suppose he has.

Nott leans forward on the chair. The old wood creaking. "Well, go on. What's Draco doing dancing in that pretty head of yours." The chair strains under him as he inches closer. He could probably grab the book under my arms if he only moved forward another inch.

"He isn't." I mumble, already knowing it's not convincing enough with Nott's scoffing laugh adding to my guilt.

"A girl of few words." He muses. Nott shifts suddenly and snatches the book away from under me just as I had suspected he would, ignoring my pant of annoyance as he wordlessly flips through the pages.

His smile falters as he continues on, probably from the ghastly pictures, before he snaps it shut, thankfully having not reached the bookmarked section with Malfoy's note. Nott's smile returns brighter than before. "Always knew there was a dark side to you." He grins, tossing the book back to me.

I swear I can see a bit of the leather flick off in the darkness as I carefully set it down on the edge of the table. I grumble out an exasperated sigh. I've never shared a word with Theodore Nott before, and I'm starting to realize why him and Malfoy are friends.

Same sarcastic attitude and mannerisms, although Nott is a little less mean and more light-hearted with his words. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?" I snap which only makes him melt further into his chair. 

"Trying to rid of me already?" He tuts. "Would it help if I were blond and more of an asshole?" Nott actually bats his fucking eyelashes, and I have to stop my jaw from going slack. My frozen stare only riles him up as that striking grin breaks out again.

"Only playing. It's just new for us to see Draco near anyone else without bullying them." He says it casually, but my ears perk at this. In some ways it feels wrong to discuss Malfoy behind his back with one of his friends no less. But then again, he's so entirely confusing and hard to navigate I'm sure it would make my end easier to know a little more about how he is with people he seems to trust.

For the sake of our task of course.

"He still bullies." I attest and Nott rolls his eyes while I prepare to tell him every horrible thing I've had to deal with when it comes to Malfoy so I can prove him wrong.

But he shakes his head with a low laugh. "No, he hasn't." He affirms. "You wouldn't still be waiting here for him if he had." 

Every thought flies out of my head while a single threatening notion pounds at the base of my skull.

_Does he know?_

"Lived with the twat for almost six years now. I know what him sneaking off looks like. Only took Blaise and I another hour to connect the pieces after we saw you two whisper yelling at each other by the Great Hall the other day. He also had that book on his nightstand only a few days ago." Nott motions to the curses book that sits perfectly at the corner of the table.

I blow out a whistle of surprise. It seems neither Malfoy nor I can get past our overly observant dorm mates.

My face must have suddenly shown signs of worry because he leans closer, his elbows moving from the chair back to the table. "No one else has really noticed. Not even Pansy and I swear she sticks her perfect little nose into everyone's business." Nott grumbles as if it's a sore topic he brings up from time to time only to air it out.

"Still." He begins again. A new aura of determination forming "What are you two playing at with all this dark stuff? I know Malfoy has a thing for these sorts of things out of curiosity with his family's dealings, but I always thought you were a bit better than that." 

Genuine curiosity is spread on Nott's face and as he speaks, I'm getting at how intelligent he is while he shares his observations he's gathered only over the past few days. Presenting them like a well-written essay intertwined with his own bouts of humor.

I find it odd that he even has an opinion on me.

"Same interest as Malfoy." I offer. "My father..." I trail off my words, not wanting to give more for Nott to grasp onto. But he manages to pull at threads anyways. 

"Death Eater. Same as mine. But you don't see me going about and dredging out books on how to poison people." He says firmly. I'm cut with silence at this.

I'm sure he doesn't mean his words to be harsh but the honesty behind them takes me by surprise. Because he's entirely right. Both of us with similar backgrounds only to have chosen different paths in the end.

Nott takes to my silence, huffing out a sigh. 

"Just don't put your heads in places they shouldn't be. All our fathers have been imprisoned because of the stuff you and Malfoy are suddenly taking an interest to. What happened to you being the outcast Slytherin that hangs out with the wrong crowd?" His voice lilts in sympathy near the end, but I still notice his take on the idea of a wrong crowd to be anyone from Gryffindor. It makes me laugh tiredly.

"Still my friends." I assure. "And I've always thought you and your crowd were the type to be considered wrong." I match Nott's manic grin even in the late hours. He's much easier going and honest than Malfoy and it makes me wonder if Blaise is the same. Pansy surely can't be. She's scared me since First Year.

I can tell that Nott has that dark streak hidden behind his charming personality. Like he's figured out how to shadow it until it needs to be brought forth at the right time. There's also a sense of comedic intelligence wrapped up in him and it makes talking with him simple. 

"My lot are every bit wrong. But I've never felt out of place." He pushes the last sentence, and its sort of a low blow considering my loose ties with Gryffindor are ready to be snipped at a moment's notice if they ever caught wind of my secrets.

"I'm sure that's nice." I say curtly, not really meaning to say the thought aloud as my mind slows from the ticking hours while my thoughts fall to my tongue.

We both go quiet for another moment as Nott takes to drumming his fingers on the black lacquer top, and I dance with the idea of just calling it a night. Charmed swans and deadly necklaces can wait until tomorrow.

My hands move before I can make a proper decision as they begin to neatly stack the parchment I've collected before sliding it into the front cover of my book. I meet Nott's eyes as I stand. Even in the dim lighting they're surprisingly bright. Not unlike Malfoy's that flash between grey and gleaming silver.

"I suppose this is the part where I tell you to give Malfoy my best." I say to Nott's smirking grin as I confirm all his little suspicions that Malfoy and I have at least managed to talk without having ripped each other's heads off in the process. 

He shrugs shortly after as his smile dips ever slightly. "You'll have to tell him yourself. Hasn't been with us lately." He admits quietly. It sounds almost sad, but his demeanor shifts just as there's a soft crack from behind him.

We both turn to see Malfoy enter the common room. His face warps with confusion as he flicks his eyes between the two of us.

"Nott." Malfoy says gruffly.

Theo stands from his chair while his face melts back into mischief accompanied by a weak smile. "Malfoy. Was just looking for Blaise's Quidditch jumper. Know where it is?" He asks innocently, making no effort to hide how he's obviously lying.

Malfoy's mouth threatens to break into a grin, but he settles with a shake of his head as he sighs. "If anyone were to know where Blaise's things are it's you. Sure you didn't steal it off him?" Malfoy teases and Nott shoots a look of dramatic shock at his friend.

"I don't steal." He says proudly. "I _borrow_ from Blaise. There's a difference. It's not with my things anyways you sneaky git. Suppose I'll just have to lie to him." Nott says with a shrug before he grabs an apple off the table and takes a bite, smiling neatly as he turns on his heal and shoots me a wink when he walks past. 

I haven't moved an inch as I watch the two of them talk, somewhat fascinated with how casual they are with each other especially with the clear sense of hierarchy that usually surrounds the two boys.

Nott pauses at the stairs to the boys' dormitories, leaning lazily against the railing as he looks to Malfoy again. "Should I wait for you? Or are you still brooding?" Nott grins.

"Fuck off." Malfoy snaps, but I catch a smile just as he dips his head.

Nott turns back to me now before tossing the apple from his hand. I catch it, being sure to avoid the part where he ate. Nott marches up the stairs, only calling back when he's out of sight.

"Have fun kids. Don't stay awake for too long. You both look miserable." 

"Bastard." Malfoy whispers that same time I push forward my own opinion.

"I like him."

Malfoy's eyes flick to me. Then to the apple in my hands. "What did he want?" He says quickly, still hanging his head low and keeping by the entrance of the common room where the shadows stay put. 

"Where were you?" I ask instead. Malfoy raises his head at this.

His pale hands are shoved deep into the pockets of his black uniform trousers. He's traded the typical white button down for a simple, black long sleeve that looks thick and warm. His hair falls just above his eyes like he's been furiously running his hands through it. And his eyes are tinted red from lack of sleep and purple shadows beneath to match. His skin looks stark in the limited light. The moonlight bringing out every bit of lacking color.

He's the complete opposite of the wide-eyed, sun-tinted Theodore Nott. But Malfoy has become familiar in his entirety and the anticipation that hasn't left since lunch the other day finally meets its end.

"I hate when you do that." He mumbles. I raise an eyebrow while he continues. "Can never have a proper conversation with you."

"I like making sure you don't get everything handed to you." I fire back instantly. Malfoy stiffens briefly and there's that short pause that always shoots anxiety through me as I wait for the blank slate of his emotions to finally bare themselves. A smile breaks out across his face. 

"So," I begin again. "Where were you?" My voice is softer now as I repeat my question, hoping we're still not avoiding answers. Malfoy slinks closer with his long strides until he's directly across from me. One of his hands resurfaces and takes the apple from my hand, frowning at the bite mark made by Nott.

"Was trying to find a better route to the Room of Requirement. I don't fancy running into Filch every night." He looks up from the apple, meeting my eyes. "Unless..." Mischief plays on his tongue, and I roll my eyes while taking a hardly noticeable step back.

Distance is always good. It's safer.

"I'm not stealing Harry's cloak." I say firmly, knowing he didn't really mean the suggestion as the topic has become more of an inside joke.

"You're no fun." He whispers slyly as he drags his eyes to the book I have clutched against my chest. Malfoy frees his other hand and plucks the paper folded in between the pages, and I wince as recognition sweeps through him. My only hope being the faint smile still ghosting his lips.

"I'm sorry." I mumble hastily. "Prudence caught me off guard, and the swan was brilliant magic, truly." I start rambling as Malfoy flicks the note back to me, caught in between two fingers as if he were holding a cigarette while he cocks his head with amusement.

"Can't hold it against you. Had a bit too much fun with it." Malfoy says with a shrug, but I don't miss the widening of his sly smile at the mention of _brilliant magic_.

"Prudence was pissed about the biting." I add, wondering how long we've been standing alone in the common room like this. In the busy hours of the day, we never near each other in this room, but now, it feels rather nice.

"Had to get my message across." The corner of his mouth tilts up. "Speaking of, we have some business to get to. Ready to hide from Filch?" Malfoy glances over his shoulder towards the entrance of the common room. I only produce a single nod and we descend into the darkness of the castle.

-

I actually managed to wake for breakfast the next day, much to Prudence's pleased look as she catches my eye from across the Great Hall.

I lazily stir my porridge, watching the sugar melt into its golden color as Ron talks between bites. "Can't believe I have to push my free just because I was caught with you by McGonagall." He grumbles as more of his toast disappears. "I need to bloody practice."

Harry groans, picking his eyes up from his Potions book. It seems to be glued to his side these days, practically becoming an extension of himself. He's still rather secretive about it, angling his arms just right so it makes it just hard enough to not be worth trying to gather a sneak. Not that Hermione hasn't already tried. 

"You'll be fine Ron." Harry assures.

Ron sinks further into his seat. "I don't want any special treatment though. I want to earn a spot on the team." He pushes quickly, and Harry nods vigorously, holding his hands up in surrender.

They've been going on about Quidditch tryouts all breakfast while Hermione and I keep quiet with the occasional glance over our books, adding a nod when needed to keep up with the conversation.

"You both still set to watch?" Ron asks, glancing between Hermione and me. We both put forward our own agreement, gaining a satisfied smile from Ron.

"Brilliant." He breathes out. "It'll be nice having everyone together outside of lessons for once."

I glue my eyes to my porridge as Hermione shifts in her seat. I haven't seen them nearly all week aside from class. Attending their Quidditch tryouts felt mandatory at this point, even though I'm sure I'll get a few scathing looks from the Slytherin team when they take to the field right after Gryffindor for their designated time.

Malfoy and I had figured out a careful balance of meeting late in the hours of the night to sneak off to the Room of Requirement while forcing ourselves to remain afloat during the day. We bode our time by continuing to mend the cabinet with no recent luck along with endless preparation as the necklace was presumably on its way to the castle. I'm sure I could manage to create my own cursed relic with the amount of information we collectively crammed amongst the piles of homework our classes have already jammed down everyone's throats. 

Faces drawn in exhaustion have begun to form amongst the students, although none nearly as bad as Malfoy and I. We both agreed to grab sleep whenever the opportunity presented itself, but it was proving difficult as I saw him almost dose off into his dinner last night just before Theo caught him, being sure to give a pointed look in my direction. 

Nott had been more present as of late too. Ever since that night in the common room, he's been clinging to Malfoy a little more, and as a result, Pansy and Blaise were right beside him. It didn't complicate things too much considering Malfoy and I have slowly developed into night owls, not having to worry about lingering eyes, but the looming knowledge Theo seems to hold over us was daunting.

"He won't do anything." Malfoy had pressed when I brought it up casually in between our mending of the cabinet the other night. "Theo's many things, but he knows how to keep a secret." Malfoy kept his voice firm, defending his friend and it made me drop the subject. It didn't stop me from wondering how much Theo know however, and the extent to how easily he could ruin my life was just another complicated piece to add to the mixture of everything.

Even now, a sly glance to the Slytherin table would only be met with Nott's piercing blue eyes looking right back with a smug grin held firm on his lips because he must know the state of power he between Malfoy and I now. I hoped the two boys were as good of friends as they seemed and that it would be enough for Nott to hold off until it was all well and done. He could drag my name through mud once everything was finished.

"I'll be there." I say firmly, still keeping my voice quiet as I look reassuringly to Ron to break the uncomfortable silence that had spread throughout our table. 

"Never doubted." Ron smiles primly back, and it eases my nerves just enough to make it through the rest of breakfast without a hitch.

And soon I was thrown back into the reckless cycle of early mornings and far too late nights. My brain filled with material for my classes only for it all to take a back seat to the information Malfoy and I poured over in the Room of Requirement. Our already short conversations dying out the moment we would read another crude detail about the mechanics to cursed objects and how to manage them.

I was relieved to notice Malfoy was similarly feeling the weight of the necklace set heavy in his soul. His face stuck in concern on most days, and of the few times we managed to pass each other in the hallways, I managed to catch the almost sickly look spread through him when he glanced at the Room of Requirement even though it was merely a brick wall when the hallways crowded with students. 

It was all business. We worked quickly and quietly, all while doing our best to keep a low profile. Nott didn't approach me for the rest of the week, only keeping knowing looks between the two of us which only made me more nervous at my own lack of knowledge to the extent of what he knew. And of course, Malfoy was no help whenever I brought it up, so I gave up on the topic.

The first week seemed to drag on longer than any other year at Hogwarts, and I almost wish it went on longer because before I knew it, the weekend was here. And as excited as I was to spend time watching the Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts and be with my friends, I could barely touch my breakfast as the post came in on Saturday. Owls swirled above carrying varying sizes of packages and letters.

It was like my mind knew where to look as I found the flick of wings from Malfoy's eagle owl, carrying a thick box as it dropped it neatly in front of Malfoy who paled considerably when it appeared in front of him. 

I will him to meet my eyes, needing the comfort, craving the familiarity. He does as if he can feel me looking. Stormy grey.

It's beginning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated on wattpad under the same username! Thank you for reading. Truly means the most.


	12. Quidditch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'I wish they would only take me as I am.'
> 
> -Vincent van Gogh

A week in, and it's already begun to get colder.

My carefully layered sweater and jacket tuck in my black, knitted scarf that does nothing stop the oncoming cold from biting at my skin. My mittened hands pull on a hat as I briskly walk through the halls to get to Gryffindor Tower. I'm practically sweating as I near the portrait entrance, rocking back and forth on my heels as I wait for Hermione. 

Today was going to be good. I had decided this at breakfast as the sun crept in on the last day of the much needed weekend. Even in the wake of the arrival of our cursed necklace, I'd resigned to push away my focus on the item when I was with friends. Best not to worry about it until I was forced to. 

Malfoy and I didn't meet Saturday night. I came back from breakfast following the arrival of the necklace to another paper swan. It didn't try and bite that time around. Instead, it curved its paper head down and unfolded with only two words written in Malfoy's characteristically neat handwriting.

_Tomorrow night._

It was now tomorrow morning and the night seemed so far off with my body choosing to ignore the anxious hum of my heartbeat whenever the idea of the necklace came up. It's helped that I haven't even seen Malfoy since he was delivered the necklace. The last look from him was from across the Great Hall as his face became a mix of pained terror and fleeting excitement when the wrapped package was placed before him. I hold onto the idea that he couldn't possibly do something reckless with the deadly object before tonight. But of course, there's always uncertainty when it comes to him.

Best not to think about it I remind myself once again. 

"Rora?" Hermione's wide smile appears from behind the portrait of The Fat Lady.

"Hi!" I say, letting my thoughts all diverge towards a single focus. Quidditch tryouts. 

We walk side by side as we make our way to the field with a few players already flying above to try and be there early. Hermione shoves her hands deep into her jacket as we slip into casual conversation about lessons to past the time.

"Ron keeps bugging me about the Potions essay." Hermione mumbles as we continue down the hill. "Told him I'd only give him the introduction to go off of." She smiles weakly. 

I smirk. "You've never been one to tell him no." 

I meant the comment to be nonchalant, meaning nothing behind it, but Hermione slows her steps only a moment, making me glance to her. Her face begins to set in concentration.

"Nothing wrong with it Mione." I say quickly, hoping I didn't hit a sore note without knowing. I've been away from all of them so much recently I feel sort of out of loop when it comes to their disagreements as it no longer seems to be my place to know those things.

Hermione's concentration drops in an instant as she brightly turns back to me. "No, you're right. Should probably stop helping him anyways, otherwise he'll be inept by the time NEWTS come around." She smiles before adding another point. "Besides, Ron can bother Harry about Potions now since he's Slughorn's favorite at the moment." 

Her voice doesn't sound bitter, but I nod for the sake of agreeing, being careful not to say another thing I unknowingly shouldn't. We make our way to the Quidditch pitch, climbing the wooden stairs until we reach the stands that are sparsely filled with the occasional student. 

Just as I'd expected, I'm the only one who's a Slytherin. Not even a single Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff decided to show and it makes me all the more grateful I decided not to dawn any House colored clothes this cool autumn morning. 

We settle on the rather unused benches as most people tend to stand during the games while we watch a gathering of red-robed students on the grass push and argue so loud that it's audible from the stands. 

After a few more minutes of silence, Harry's mess of black hair appears beside Ginny's fire red as the two get the obnoxious group to quiet and organize with just a few directed shouts. 

"Have you noticed anything about Harry with Ginny?" Hermione asks suddenly. She looks intently at the two as they begin to explain and gesture the manner of today's tryouts. And as always, Hermione's brilliant mind picks apart all the details that most wouldn't even have the aptitude to notice. 

I shrug, looking directly at the pair. "I suppose they've always been close." I say, but Hermione's already shaking her head.

"Well, no that's obvious. But I'm also close to Harry and I don't know, he just seems to clam up whenever Gins around or he becomes more of an idiot than usual." She pauses as a sympathetic look settles on her face. "Ron would be livid." 

I laugh at the idea that Ron could ever be mad at Harry, let alone continue being mad even after a brief stint of anger. "Ron wouldn't know what to do with himself. Besides, Ginny's still with Dean." I say, somewhat proud I still have some intel on what goes on between my friends.

"Hasn't stopped Harry from practically staring at her." Hermione giggles. I join in, falling back into the effortless ease that comes with being around Hermione like she makes every worry waste away. It's like she's the steady reminder that at times it's okay to let the darker thoughts subside as if they have no purpose taking up space in my already crowded mind. 

The Quidditch players begin to take to the air, getting ready to alternate through drills. Ron flies to the goalposts, looking ghastly against the pale storm clouds gathering above. There's a whistle from the goalposts opposite to Ron from Cormac McLaggen which causes Hermione to shift uncomfortably in her seat and direct a frown at McLaggen's intentional wink.

"He's got it bad for you Mione." I tease, gently elbowing her arm. Hermione produces an exasperated sigh, having clearly noticed the obvious. 

"He's patronizing." She grumbles. "Hasn't let me be the moment we've gotten back." Hermione continues to glare at the other keeper as he makes a show of a rather easy save. 

The players realign themselves to rush Ron now, after having almost every shot saved by McLaggen aside from a single goal by Ginny. "Why does Cormac have to be good at Quidditch?" Hermione mumbles nervously as she transfers her glare into a commiserating look towards Ron.

"Ron will do just fine. I'm sure he's been practicing all the time now that he has you and Harry to write his Potions essays for him." I say to lighten the mood, which gains a small smile from Hermione who still has her eyes glued to the keeper.

There's a brief stretch of silence throughout the stands as the players reorganize until a rather abrupt screech erupts from a Gryffindor girl with a tumble of blonde curls falling past her shoulders as she claps gleefully. "Come on Ron!"

Hermione's eyes snap to the girl, shooting daggers at her back. "Who's she?" I ask, somewhat fearful of Hermione's response. She can be rather intimidating when she wants to be. 

"Lavender." She says quietly, her voice dripping with malice. "She's like the girl version of Cormac. Except she's fixated with Ron." 

I glance between the two Gryffindors and it's as if Hermione's own words have come back to haunt her. Because despite what she had said regarding Harry and Ginny, Hermione unknowingly is acting the exact same as Harry when it comes to Ron. 

And I know it's all a matter of shaky waters, but I approach the idea anyways, more so to get Hermione to stop glaring at Lavender who's continued to shout and scream as Ron makes a few decent saves, although nearly slipping from his broom in the process.

Hermione's close with Harry as she had said. Just as she is with Ron. But perhaps more so with Ron then she cares to admit.

"She likes Ron." I say simply. Hermione straightens.

"Yes." She agrees politely. I nod as I begin to near towards conclusions, but Hermione stops me before I can fully reach them. "Lavender's just..." She thinks carefully over her words. "She's just a bit much. I'd feel the same towards her if she fancied Harry." Hermione says firmly.

I fight to not laugh at her excuse as she finds her way back to looking nervously towards Ron. "Okay Mione." I say, knowing she's already beginning to spiral in that overthinking head of hers. She slouches slightly as if she's relieved to have the subject dropped.

A sudden gasp escapes from the small crowd of students, and I look back to the Quidditch pitch to see Ron trying to swing back up on his broom. Even Harry matches Hermione's look of concern as he stays perched on his broom while streaks of red race in front of him. 

It appears that Ron did just as well as McLaggen aside from being much less graceful and paired with a complexion that seems to worsen as the tryouts continue. The teams are realigning, switching out players for different positions so they can take to the goals again. Ron manages to mount his broom once again, much to the delight of Lavender. And amongst the singsong chants of the eccentric blonde, Hermione subconsciously begins a chant of her own.

"Come on Ron." She whispers so softly only I can hear it. Ginny takes another go at McLaggen, only to have him produce another save which causes him to flash his golden boy smile directly at Hermione.

"I can see why you think Cormac is a bit much." I say as Hermione keeps her eyes on Ron despite McLaggen's insisting stares. She mumbles an agreement, only relaxing when Ron makes a save of his own. Despite the differing statures of the two keepers, they're neck and neck.

"What would you do if you were in my situation?" Hermione whispers, still keeping her eyes on the air. I sigh, unsure of how I would even get myself in the position of being the interest of someone like McLaggen but decide to give Hermione an honest answer.

"Probably would hex him so he'd leave me alone." I say confidently, winning a surprised laugh from Hermione. She leans into me as her earlier irritation subsides. "Although, I don't think that's really your style Mione. Wouldn't hurt to give it a try though. Cormac has a very hex-worthy face." 

Hermione doubles over in laughter as I blissfully smile against the frigid air that turns both our cheeks pink. A warm feeling of comfort blossoms in my chest as my body relaxes to the familiarity of moments like this. When things weren't filled with taunts of death and worry but instead full of Quidditch and crushes and normalcy.

"I can't go and hex him." Hermione says after a moment while our laughing dies out. 

"I could do it for you." I offer which makes her grin while she turns to me. 

"I couldn't ask that of you." She insists as I open my mouth to suggest it again, suddenly feeling an overwhelming urge to put Cormac in his place as he purposely flies by our section of the stands. Hermione glares at him while he passes, which only drives him wild with adoration as he centers himself at the other goalposts.

"We have to do something about him. He's going to keep this up if you keep avoiding it." I say as ideas of ruining golden boy McLaggen begin to form. Although I wouldn't mind the peace and quiet of detention if I were to hex Cormac. I keep the option off to the side just in case. 

"I know." Hermione breathes out like she's still not entirely opposed to the idea of hexing him. Ron makes another save which causes her smile to resume upon her face. It's only another second before her eyes widen with the sudden hint of mischief. "I have an idea of how to dampen that confidence of his." 

I raise an eyebrow as she begins to pull out her wand. "Mione I was just kidding about the hexing." I say quickly, wondering what has suddenly gotten into her. There're too many other students here that'll notice something that obvious.

She rolls her eyes. "I'm not going to hex him. But I will be ruining his chances of making the Quidditch team." Hermione whispers a Confundus Charm before I can say anything. I immediately look to the air as McLaggen's broom goes awry and Ginny scores against him. 

The blond keeper looks down to his broom with confusion before shaking his head and realigning himself. But the poor guy only gets another brief moment of relief before Hermione throws another charm his way as he misses another rather easy save. 

This only seems to raise Ron's confidence as he begins to outcompete McLaggen. Hermione continues for another few rounds of the drill before slipping her wand back into her jacket with satisfaction splayed on her face.

"Who are you and what have you done with Hermione?" I ask with amusement. Hermione shrugs as she watches a rather defeated McLaggen attempt to finish the last few sets of drills with his confidence suddenly depleted at his new apprehension directed towards his broom.

"Just don't tell Ron." She says quickly. I mimic zipping my mouth shut in secrecy and Hermione truly relaxes for the first time since we've sat down. 

The team is finishing up with a final huddle with Harry and Ginny discussing off to the side when Hermione turns to me. "Rora." Hermione begins reproachfully, pausing as she considers her words as I turn to her. "What Ron said at breakfast yesterday, about all of us not seeing much of each other. He didn't mean anything by it." She says softly like she's trying to present delicate information to me in the best way possible without it shattering. 

I hold my breath, settling into a conversation I knew was bound to happen at some point. You can't just disappear from your friends for days at a time without anyone noticing.

"I know." I say meekly, presenting an innocent smile. "Ron tends to say things on his mind without much though past what he feels." I add as Hermione nods, glancing carefully at the fellow Gryffindor below as he throws an arm over Harry's shoulder. I suppose tryouts were a success after all.

"Are things alright with you though?" Hermione asks, wasting no time of dancing around what she really wants to know. I stare off at the group of red clothed players as I carefully consider my answer.

The urge to spill everything is just as overwhelming as always. Especially now, with the arrival of the necklace cementing my stance amidst everything. But it's all going to come to an end so quickly, so I'd rather enjoy the time I have left at Hogwarts in blissful ignorance.

"Everything's fine." I say primly. "My mum's caught up with everything that's going on. Same as the Weasley's and such. Everything's darker for everyone." I say the words with confidence as I try to convince both Hermione of their lacking truth.

Her eyebrows knit together with curious concern before she settles with a nod. "I know what you mean. It's all so different these days. With You-Know-Who..." Her words trail off, and I can't help but wince while my fingers dance gently over the fabric covering my forearm.

I give her a look of shared understanding, burying the pieces of panic that only apply to myself and one other person. But the topic of dread is easy to focus on and to find commonality in. And it's what we let put the conversation to rest as Hermione and I gather ourselves to meet Harry and Ron with tryouts having finished.

The wooden stairs creak beneath our steps when Hermione looks to me once more before we reach the bottom. "You can come to me with anything. You know that right?" She says unexpectedly.

I almost miss a step as I look into her eyes, seeing such intent and care that it makes my stomach twist. She wouldn't look at me like this if she knew.

"Of course." Is all I can say as we finally meet a grinning Ron who walks proudly next to Harry.

I immediately form another look of support as the boys approach. "You face must mean good news." I tease as Ron nods gleefully like he can't believe it himself.

"You're looking at Gryffindors new keeper." He says with the biggest smile I've seen from him in a while. "Not sure what happened with McLaggen, but I honestly can't believe I pulled it off." He exclaims.

Harry glances knowingly to Hermione with a sneaking smile ghosting his lips as he nudges Ron. "It was well deserved." He assures.

"I think we should celebrate with lunch." Ron says dreamily because if there's one thing Ron adores more than Quidditch, it's meals at Hogwarts. The rest of nod in agreement for a reason to get out of the increasingly frigid weather, turning to leave the Quidditch stadium.

But as we exit, another group approaches, brooms gripped in gloved hands, green capes fluttering in the autumn breeze. The Slytherin Quidditch team comes closer with a uniform set of scowls directed at the four of us.

"Tryouts for Gryffindor must be looking bleak this year if you've resorted to recruiting more Weasleys." The Slytherin captain, Urquhart, spits out before we can pass.

Harry stiffens against Ron's sudden pulling of his arm as he tries to get him as far away from the group of Slytherins as possible. I stay quiet beside Hermione, shrinking back amidst the blur of developing animosity.

"I would worry about your own team." Harry says lowly as his eyes scan the team. It takes me a moment to realize he's looking for someone and it all clicks together when I notice it the same time he does. Malfoy isn't among them.

And while my eye lingers alongside Harry's, I find myself settling on a pair that stare right back. Blaise Zabini narrows his features as Urquhart rolls his eyes and grumbles for the rest of the team to take to the stadium.

Ron is already dragging Harry off and Hermione has begun to follow with myself close behind when someone calls out last minute. "Pierce." I wince at the sound of my name, not needing to fully turn to know who said it. 

Hermione pauses with me as we both look back to Blaise who has separated from the rest of the team sauntering towards the pitch with a few already taking to the sky. He grips his broom casually in his hand as he waits for me to make my back to the bottom of the hill.

"Want me to come with you?" Hermione asks protectively. I shake my head, knowing that there's only one thing that would cause Blaise to want to talk to me. Anxiety has already begun to spread throughout my chest as I already take a few steps towards Blaise.

"I'll meet you for lunch. It'll only be a minute." I say hastily before walking away, not bothering to see if Hermione will follow.

And as I close the few yards of distance between me and the other Slytherin, dangerous thoughts race through my head at an alarming rate, quickening my heartbeat.

_What has he done? Is he missing? Malfoy's done something. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

"Zabini." I say quietly. Blaise smirks as he leans on his broom.

"Don't look so scared Pierce. I promise if it were anything serious, I would have found you long before Malfoy was able to do anything stupid." He speaks calmly which only releases the pent up concern all while confirming exactly what I'd suspected was on Blaise's mind. Malfoy.

"What is it then?" I ask as the urge to sprint back to the castle begins to increase. 

"You've spoken with Theo recently?" Blaise asks instead, and I pause for a moment of misunderstanding before nodding, wondering where he's going with this. "So then you know that we've figured there's something Malfoy has taken up that has to with you." I nod again, watching him work through his own ideas just as Nott had a few days before.

"I won't press about what it is. I'm sure Theo's already given you enough grief, but just know that Draco has never been one to be good at hiding his emotions. And whatever it is you've both gotten yourself into, it's made him distant. He hasn't been around all day. Not since yesterday." Blaise's voice turns serious as he furrows his eyebrows and looks down at me with his towering height. 

My pulse begins to hammer, both in intimidation and at the mention of Malfoy having disappeared once again. "Promise me it's nothing serious." Blaise demands abruptly. 

I open my mouth, trying to stammer out a promise, but it feels wrong to make those sorts promises for a person that clearly is connected deeper to Malfoy. Because it is all serious. So serious, that it's hardly a promise I can make.

"It's fine." I say finally, swallowing as Blaise narrows his eyes, clearly not satisfied. "You said you talked to Nott." I begin to go a different route, conjuring up the same excuse I left Theo with.

Blaise nods with his anger softening briefly at the mention of Theo, allowing me to continue. "Then you know that Malfoy only talks to me to know more about his parents. If it was anything more than that, I'm sure he'd come to his best friends." Blaise scoffs with a deep laugh.

"You don't know him at all." He spits. "He'll close himself in until his breaking point and only then will he come to us. So tell me again how it's not serious and promise me that you aren't pushing him to that breaking point." Blaise takes a threatening step forward and I will my feet to stay still as I look up at him.

"Promise." I say lowly feeling my sternum stutter as the lie leaves my mouth. 

"Oi, Zabini!" We both turn to one of the other Slytherin players shout from the entrance of the stadium. "You coming or not?" Blaise only gives his teammate a single nod before looking back to me.

"Don't ruin him Pierce. He trusts you and by default I suppose I do too. But don't think we won't jump in the minute things begin to fall apart." Blaise lets the warning hang in the air as I numbly nod, knowing he means it fully.

"I know you will. It won't get to that point." I say, knowing Blaise doesn't buy a single word, but he huffs in agreement before turning and going into the stadium. I suck in my own breath as the single need to get into the castle and find Malfoy centers in my head. I go to turn, ready to find him.

Except I'm never that lucky. "My, my Pierce. You've managed to piss off almost every single one of us." I look up the hill to see Theo sauntering down the steep decline with a smirk on his face as his eyes linger on the entrance Blaise just walked through. "I'd say that's a new record, but your Gryffindor friends still hold the cake."

"I'm not in the mood." I snap as I shove my numb fingers into the pockets of my jacket before making an effort to ascend the hill. Nott moves into my intentional path, standing tall with a deep green, cable knit Quidditch sweater peeking out beneath a black overcoat. The tip of his nose is dusted red from the biting cold, but his eyes are as blue as ever.

"Don't mind Blaise. He won't do anything drastic unless provoked. Although I can't say the same for dear Pansy." His smirk turns malicious and my shoulders sag because if Pansy has taken to noticing my existence then I really am at risk for getting hexed in the halls.

"Didn't know you played Quidditch." I gesture lazily to the sweater, wanting to get off the topic of Malfoy. Theo glances down to the sweater with his eyes glassing over with amusement as he tugs at the fabric.

"I don't." He says simply before moving past me to get to the stadium only to call out just as he makes it to the bottom of the hill where Blaise and I had just been standing. "Draco's moping in the common room. Caught him coming back from Merlin knows where. If you know what's good for you, I think you'd better see him." And with that, Theo disappears into the stands.

I stand frozen for a moment until I turn quickly and rush up the hill, panting beneath the layers of clothes with sweat beginning to prick at my already flushed skin when I finally meet the rush of warmth upon entering the castle. The occasional student wanders to the library or the Great Hall as I descend towards the dungeon, pulling off my hat and shoving it in my pocket along with my mittens.

It only takes another minute for me to mumble the password before I'm entering into the common room, out of breath and hoping that he's exactly where I expect him to be. Silver eyes glance up from the only occupied couch.

"Hi." I say weakly. Malfoy straightens, letting the book in his hand collapse shut before leaning on forward with his elbows on his knees. He's wearing that same black long sleeve that makes his opaque features stand out in alabaster sublimity. His creased features of concentration smooth over as he draws his eyes up to me fully with a brush of a smile threatening the corners of his mouth.

"In a rush to be somewhere?" He responds and I'm suddenly very aware of how crazed I must look having essentially fallen through the entrance to the common room out of breath. I shake my head, fiddling with my freezing fingers just to give my hands something to do.

"No." I say, hating how brief I get around him. Malfoy goes to stand, arms splayed out as if he knows why I've suddenly appeared.

"Haven't done anything." He says, sounding tired as his arms fall to his side. "Nott's a dramatic prick and you should stop listening to everything he says." Malfoy adds which wins a smile from me.

"He cares." I offer. Malfoy only shrugs, but there's a flash of appreciation in his face as he moves his hands into the pockets of his black trousers. "Same as Zabini." I add, wanting him to know the sudden burst of threats from his friends I've received over the past week.

Malfoy smirks at the mention of Blaise. "And Pansy?" He asks, expanding his delight with a tilt of his head.

I play along. "Haven't had the chance to be hexed by her yet." Malfoy laughs lightly. Soft and melodic against the crackle of the midday fire expelling from the hearth of the fireplace. 

"Shame." His tired eyes look to me with sympathy, something I'm not entirely used in comparison to all of his easier to read emotions. The thought of meeting tonight brings a new sense of excitement just as it always comes whenever anything is about him. And even if Blaise was only trying to protect his friend, I want to do just as he asked. Prevent Malfoy from hitting his breaking point.

Or at the very least, share the chaos that comes after.

"Tonight?" I ask, hoping his new form of note passing is still as reliable as the first charmed swan. Malfoy nods.

"Tonight." He echoes. We stay there for a moment with me near the edge of the common room and him at the center like we can't be normal during the morning hours with the hesitancy of saying the wrong thing or acting out of character melting away our true selves until the sun sets.

The clattering of footsteps tumbling down from the stairs to the dormitories break us out of our trance as a group of Second Years run out with the muttering of excitement for lunch passing between them. I then remember the agreement I'd given Hermione of seeing her in the Great Hall, and I look back to the Second Years just as they slip out of the common room.

"Go on then." Malfoy says gently like he can guess at my thoughts. And I savor glancing at him once again as he scoops up his book from the table, clasping it in his delicate hand before he crosses his arms over his chest with his characteristic smile settling on his lips.

"Don't do anything stupid." I say suddenly, not wanting to be accosted by Theo or Blaise again. Malfoy scoffs dramatically.

"Only with your permission of course." He says with effortless sarcasm before escaping to the dormitories. 

I go to the Great Hall after, finding a seat next to Hermione across from Ron and Harry who've already finished their lunch. "Everything okay?" She whispers the moment I sit down.

"As always." I whisper back, taking to my food as I fall back into the ignorance of light hearted conversation within the safer side of my life.

Ron begins to depict every one of his thoughts from tryouts as Harry laughs and Ginny rolls her eyes at her brother's exaggeration. Even Hermione seems to forget about her curiosity from earlier as we all relax into the enjoyment of better company.

It's easy with all of them. No worries of self-destruction or threats of death. 

It's almost enough to distract me from the looming presence of the cursed necklace hidden away somewhere in the walls of the castle. Waiting patiently for Malfoy and I to get to work. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slight delay in updating! Life got busy for a moment but hopefully I'll be able to give another chapter rather soon. Thank you all for reading and of course, the story is also updated on wattpad if you prefer reading it there. (same username)   
> See you at the next one!


	13. Pointless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'And all I loved, I loved alone.'
> 
> -Edgar Allan Poe

I'm climbing the stairs of the astronomy tower.

The wind from the morning has softened to a settling deep chill that seeps into the skin. But Malfoy wanted to begin the night here first. So, I wrap my arms tightly around myself while the moon shines the only light in the open space as I reach the top steps and see him.

His back is turned as he looks out over the expanse of the school with an old Quidditch jumper clinging to his body. He leans forward on the metal railing, always too close to the edge. I approach quietly, staying a good few steps away from the rusted railing he so casually leans on.

I don't look at him. Not yet. The last glimpse of his face from the common room flashes through my head as I scan the blue hue cast along the shadowed parts of the castle. Everything is so blissfully quiet aside from the groan of the Forbidden Forest and the rush of the Black Lake. 

"It's beautiful." I whisper. "From up here." 

Malfoy slouches further against the rail. "It makes me want to jump."

I snap my eyes to him. The candor still dances on his lips as they form into a cruel smirk at my reaction. "Don't say that." I say harshly.

He only shrugs, dragging his gaze to me. Even in the low light I can tell he's tired. Red tinges the whites of his eyes with shadows carving deeply underneath. His sarcasm suddenly feels forced now, and he looks thinner from stress. Malfoy's cheekbones sit high, far more noticeable than they were just a few days ago. He looks hollow.

"Don't worry yourself, Pierce." He mumbles. "It would be rather embarrassing if they had to scrape my body up from the stone. And then of course they'd see this." A long finger taps against his bare forearm with the sleeves of his jumper rolled up to his elbows. "Wouldn't take them long to organize the pieces in a way where no one would even feel sorry for me."

My heartbeat pounds in my ears as he talks. The intuitive misery comes off of him in cascading waves. "For us." I say quickly, causing him to raise an eyebrow.

"You're not the only one with that." I gesture to his arm before making a point to roll up my own sleeves, revealing my Mark for the first time in what feels like forever.

Malfoy stares at me blankly. It's so hard to decipher what he's thinking. There's so many emotions set in his features as if they all overlap and blur until none are easily recognizable. But as much as I hate what he's saying, I can't help but relish in the brief release of honesty from him.

"It won't matter." He says finally. I begin to object, but Malfoy groans out a sigh. "They would never expect you. After it's all over with." He says firmly.

"That's not true." I retort weakly, which only makes him laugh grimly. Short and ill-tempered.

"But it is." His eyes widen slightly as he pushes away from the railing, and his foot brushes against something on the floor. We both glance down to see a carefully wrapped box. I don't have to ask what it is.

"It is." He repeats, wincing as he looks away from the box. "You're the girl from a corrupt family that chose to be good. The one that made friends with the favorites, does decent in school, never raises an eyebrow for the wrong reason. Your mum's hidden in the Order. And you, you're hidden like a wolf in sheep's clothing among red and gold. And me..." His voice quiets as his eyes still once again on our Dark Marks with anguish striking his face.

"I'm the obvious choice. The scapegoat." Malfoy forces a smile, but it falls short of comfortable and instead looks painful.

It would only take me a minute to tell him that I wouldn't let that happen. That I'm as equally responsible in all of this. That our downfall is tied to one another. Yet, it wouldn't matter if I simply told him. Malfoy is far too good at ignoring things that don't align with his opinion, especially if it makes him wrong. 

But it doesn't hurt to try.

"Stop it." I begin, needing to make him see how stupid he's being. Needing to decipher where this is coming from. I'll play his game of deprecation and hatred if it shows him how he doesn't get to feel alone in this. 

"I'm not good. I would have gone to the Order the moment my mother was contacted by the Dark Lord if I was. I wouldn't have let her drag me to your house. She wouldn't have been able to force me or hurt me. I know she doesn't have it in her. I could have gone to the Weasley's and hidden myself away the moment I saw things going south. But instead, I lie to my friends every day. And as much as I want to be like them, I know I never will be. Not with my family's history and especially not with this Mark. So stop feeling sorry for yourself because I am just as fucked as you are." 

I snap with my breathing coming out harshly while we stare numbly at each other. And surely enough, Malfoy's eyes slowly lose their shadow and a glimmer of amusement creeps into them.

"And don't think I'm letting you take all the bloody credit. If I have to put up with all this then I deserve the same blame as you." I add humorlessly and a smile finally breaks across his face, drowning the flood of emotions from earlier.

"And what if I were to turn you into Dumbledore right now? Save myself and see what happens." He asks suddenly. The smile staying as I will my expression to remain blank.

The thought that he would do something like that had crossed my mind more than once. But it's no use to lie and say I haven't also thought about doing the exact same to him. I suppose it makes us even.

My shoulders lift in a shrug. "If you fancy finishing this all yourself be my guest. You-Know-Who won't care if one of us is caught."

Malfoy crosses his arms over his chest, smothering the Dark Mark against the green stitching of his jumper. It feels strange to have both of our Marks visible even though we're alone. There's a creeping worry that someone is going to see at any moment and we'll both be dragged to Azkaban by sunrise.

But it's nearly two in the morning. Everyone is safe and asleep. Everyone but Malfoy and me.

"Then I suppose we should get to work then." Malfoy says finally, his smile faltering as he brings his eyes down to the brown package at his feet before briefly glancing over towards the railing again.

"Don't you dare." I warn, knowing the dangerous thoughts that dance through his head at this height. Because I know those thoughts. I've felt them.

Malfoy looks back to me with feigning innocence. "I told you I wouldn't do anything stupid. Not without your permission." He reminds simply, bringing back his words from the common room last afternoon. The half-hearted exchange that was more of a joke than anything with real meaning. But I can tell he's put purpose in it now. And I'm too tired to not believe him.

"Good." I say, sounding far too relieved. Malfoy nods silently and then goes to levitate the wrapped box. He takes a deep breath, watching as the box turns slowly, suspended in the space between us.

"Have you looked at it?" I ask. Malfoy shakes his head with strands of his more recently unkept hair brushing across his forehead. 

"Didn't feel like I needed to. But it's the one." He confirms.

I draw my own wand, looking to Malfoy. "Whenever you're ready." The package turns slowly three more times before he nods. I carefully draw back the wrapping with magic as the string slips loose and flutters to the floor, followed by several pieces of creased parchment until all that's left is a black, velvet box.

Malfoy's grip on his wand tightens as he wills the box to open and both of our breaths catch.

The silver necklace lays stark against its black casing. Geometric shapes hold delicately placed opalescent stones with silver metal twisting into the perfect shape of someone's neck. There's something more to it. Something that makes us frown as we let it hang in the air.

The stink of dark magic reeks from it. Like thick smoke that's caught in your lungs and tastes like iron and makes your eyes water. There's a soft hum as well. As if the souls it's collected echo from each carefully crafted piece of the necklace.

Malfoy has paled to the point of matching the crescent moon hung in the sky. He feels it too. The deadly magic that makes his hold on his wand shake ever slightly.

"We can't touch it." Malfoy says as he revolves around the necklace while I keep it still.

"We'll pass it off to Dumbledore wrapped. Make it look like a gift." Malfoy nods at this.

"And we'll need someone to give it to him." He adds.

That makes me pause my thoughts. "Wait." I interject, keeping my focus on the necklace but slowing Malfoy's pacing. "We can't drag someone into this."

Malfoy stops completely. I can see him looking at me with disbelief before he raises his wand to take hold of the necklace, snapping the box shut around it and letting it glide to the floor to sit amongst its discarded wrappings. He turns to me with annoyance starting to spark.

"By all means, Pierce, give it to the Headmaster yourself. Drag me down with you." Malfoy's voice begins to raise, but I keep my wand steady as I stare back at him. I can't let more people die in the midst of all of this. One life is already enough.

"I'm not letting some clueless person touch that thing." I yell back, pointing to the black box on the floor that seems to twitch at its acknowledgment.

"Go on then." Malfoy says lowly. He steps closer while he angles his head to look down at me. "Skip to Dumbledore's office and place it on his desk. Add a lovely little note so there's no unnecessary miscommunication about who exactly killed the great Albus fucking Dumbledore." His voice rises to a crescendo, causing me to step back.

He's right. So terribly correct about how easily they'll tie it back to us if we were to be the ones to deliver the necklace. How do you explain away a gift from a student that will inevitably lay beside a murdered Professor? Neither of us are even that close with the man. But the overwhelming guilt of harming someone else in the process is just as unforgivable.

"I'll do it." I stutter out. "I'll figure out a way to make it discrete. I'm not risking doing anything else." Malfoy rolls his eyes, lowering his wand while the other hand goes to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

"You're being ridiculous." He mumbles like he doesn't believe I'll actually follow through with it.

"Why?" I place my hands out to the side in annoyance. Thank Merlin we're far away from everyone sleeping. I'm sure our shouts would cause some very choice words from the portraits. 

"I'm being ridiculous because I'm doing the fucking task we were told to do?" My voice threatens to break from the shouting, but I hold my ground as Malfoy's hands fall to his sides, uncovering his face. And the wash of emotions reappears in an instance, swallowing my pride whole as misery consumes him. 

Malfoy stands there silently, looking entirely defeated like he's realizing I won't go back on my word. Like there's nothing he can say that'll change my mind.

"They'll know it was us." He barely whispers above a plea, but I've cemented my decision.

I bring my lower lip in, biting against the already torn skin that's become raw from the endless anxiety. "It won't matter. You have to see that. There is no future for us here after he's dead." My voice finally gives, wavering at the final sentence because it's the first I've admitted it out loud.

Malfoy narrows his eyes, letting frustration course through him. "Let me do it." I repeat as we ease away from yelling. "When winter fully comes, I'll get it to him. Just worry about the cabinet."

I put forth our new plan, hoping for some sort of agreement. But Malfoy stays strictly silent with his arms crossed and his face pinched in concentration. Those silver eyes don't waver for a single moment.

"What is it?" I dare to ask. Malfoy releases a sigh of annoyance as he comes up for any excuse for why this new plan doesn't make sense or at the very least act as a temporary solution. It could be the exhaustion creeping through my body, but I've had enough him going back against everything I have to say. 

"You don't trust me." I accuse quietly. 

"Of course I fucking trust you." Malfoy spits back immediately with disgust at the comment. 

I take a step forward, losing all my rational thinking. "Then what is it?" My question comes out as a taunt and it's enough to send Malfoy over.

"What if I want _both_ of us to make it out of this alive?" He shouts so loudly that I swear I can even hear the Forbidden Forest quiet just enough as if it were trying to listen. Malfoy breathes stiffly as he looks to me with earnest eyes.

My own breath hitches at the care in his face. The concern. The fear.

I'm deciding if I'm suddenly being cruel to myself. Malfoy couldn't actually care about me. Everything he does and says has all been partially shrouded in some sort of lie. Half-truths that made it clear from the start that even though we were tasked with a job together, I'm still alone. 

But now there's a part of me that wants to focus on this version of him. The one that only appears when he's vulnerable and not capable of hiding behind that miserable smirk and sharp tongue. Because even if this is all just another lie, it still feels nice to know someone cares.

"We will." I insist, but I don't dare make a promise.

Malfoy leans his head with a heavy breath leaving him as his eyes close. "How can you be so sure?" He mumbles.

I remain honest with him. "I can't." Malfoy opens his eyes again, searching my face for some sort of sick joke. But unlike him, I don't intend to lie about any of this. 

"But I'm sure I can get the necklace to Dumbledore." I keep my gaze on Malfoy, trying to assure that this is the best way to go about things.

"I know you can." He says with finality. I feel my shoulders settle as the dispute dissipates.

"We'll make it past this. Alive." I add. "Just like you want. You usually get what you want, right?"

Malfoy smiles weakly, his eyelids falling slightly as the moon continues to drift through the sky. "Usually."

With the rest of the night leaving nothing else for us to do, I nod before making my way towards the stairs, wanting to sleep away Malfoy's words. 

_Both of us alive._

Ridiculous.

"Pierce?" I look back from the third step down.

Malfoy under the moon, in the low light, with a cursed object at his feet and clothes that don't fit the reputation he normally holds. That's who I get to see, who I see now. It's the version of him I prefer even if we can hardly see eye to eye on anything. Still, with him like this, understanding comes easier.

"Don't do anything stupid." Malfoy warns.

I smile at him curiously, hoping it's enough of an agreement as I leave him with the necklace at the top of the tower. 

-

"If I have to keep looking at this, I'm going to hex myself." Prudence groans as she crouches over her Muggle Studies book.

A week had passed since the astronomy tower. The days packed in with lessons and little to no time for any self-enjoyment. Malfoy and I barely shared a word aside from the occasional note that I would find sitting on my beside table after returning from classes. Always a swan with a few words written in neat handwriting always about the cabinet. 

We were close. Malfoy assured he could tell the mending was working. I just hoped it would be enough for it to be ready for the coming winter. 

It seemed to loom in the distance, creeping into the air like a warning of its incoming presence. The colder days I usually look forward to had suddenly become daunting. The start of winter would be the end of everything.

Until then, I filled my limited free time with restricted section books I would hide away until the cover of night came. Once everyone had drifted to sleep, I would pull close the curtains around my four poster and light my wand, pouring over material that felt wrong to read as I tried to figure out the best way to pass off the necklace to Dumbledore.

Polyjuice had been the first idea. But deciding whose identity to steal for a day put it all to rest. Becoming an Animagus was far too risky and arduous to even attempt. And stealing Harry's invisibility cloak would only end in disaster. So, I was left with simply handing over the deadly object as myself.

I found myself wasting night after night staring into the darkness when the books became of no use as I let my thoughts run with every possibility of how it would all happen. How I'd have to stay long enough to make sure it was finished. How I had no idea about the effects of the necklace and what they would cause. How I only had a month or so left at Hogwarts.

It left me restless even with Malfoy and I's late night meetings on hold for the time being as we worked away at our separate projects. And whether anyone really noticed or not, I felt more exhausted than I had in weeks like the very idea of the task was taking its own toll.

It invaded every part of my brain, collapsing my thoughts at the most unexpected moments. Distracting me in classes, during meals, and every time I would catch a glimpse of familiar blond hair across the hallway. The never ending corruption left me feeling empty most days.

The meaning of school seemed fruitless. The idea of maintaining friendships only hurt when I realized they'd never look at me the same when they're to find out. Pointless. All of it.

"Oi, Aurora." Prudence snapped her fingers in my general direction as I tiredly looked up from my Potions book that'd been set at the same page for the last thirty minutes or so. "Why not call it a night?" Prudence offers cautiously. Concern is a strange look on Prudence with it not brushing her usual range of emotions. It's enough to shock me out of my dazed state as I shake my head.

"You go on. I have some work for Divination to get through anyways." I quickly push out, knowing the moment she leaves I'll gratefully be left to my own silence at the far table we'd acquired in the packed common room. The Thursday night not nearly as joyful as a the much anticipated weekend with students taking over every inch of space with textbooks and inkwells scattered throughout. 

A survey of familiar faces produce hours of finished homework with Prudence staying behind with me as Darcy and Tia resigned to our room an hour ago along with a few other students that'd escaped while the night crept along. I'd finished everything I needed to long before Darcy and Tia had made their exit. But the idea of being alone in the crowded common room was far better than being alone in our dormitory hidden in darkness.

"That'll put you right to sleep." Prudence mumbles as she gathers her things. "Don't be too long." She says to be polite.

I only nod silently before going back to scanning the same page of potion ingredients while the rest of my thoughts find themselves wandering one again. Always back to the same focus.

_Obliviate_ wouldn't be a half bad charm to get better at. Just in case. 

I start at the sudden scraping of the chair Prudence occupied across the flagstone. I half expect her to have wandered back down with a forgotten assignment. It only takes a single glance to see how that isn't the case. Of course it isn't Prudence.

"Hiya." Theo leans lazily on his hands with his elbows sat neatly on the table.

"Hi." I respond before attempting to go back to my book. But nothing's ever simple with Theo.

He reaches a slim hand over and drags my book away against my disgruntled sigh. "I'm not in the mood." I say, but Theo has his usual look of mischief and doesn't show any sign of stopping. I sink further into my seat, daring to glance over to the usual corner occupied by three other Slytherins I'd been avoiding looking to all night.

Pansy purposely flips through a book too quickly for her to actually be paying any attention to it. Blaise shakes his head as he looks over to Theo with no intention of bringing him back to their area. And Malfoy sits in his own chair, looking miserable as he runs the cuff of his school uniform, void of the tie and black robes, between his fingers as he stares distantly like he has his own thoughts that crowd his head. 

"Fancy spending time with us since you're clearly not too busy." Theo offers, causing me to drag my eyes away from his friends. I'm shaking my head without finding the available words to admit that's the last thing I want to do. Should have taken up Prudence's suggestion of an early night. 

Theo feigns a pout, crossing his arms over the same Quidditch jumper I saw him in last. "I'm busy." I urge only for Theo to push my book back to me.

"Busy looking over potions that we won't even get to 'til after Christmas?" Theo's odd intuition catches me again as my slowed thoughts try to remember if he's even taking Potions. 

"I'm getting ahead." I excuse as quickly as I can manage.

Theo continues his look of amusement while he pauses a moment just to debate whether it's worth it to keep this up. "Don't think you're too good for us now." He finally adds, trying to go a different route of teasing. I roll my eyes before squeezing them shut to pinch the bridge of my nose. He's persistent. 

"I don't." I sigh. 

Another few seconds of silence pass between us and I open my eyes hoping he's left, but he sits still with that perfect smile as he tilts his head. "Spare a few minutes." He begins. His voice drops lower now, quieter so the Fourth Year in the chair closest to us won't hear even though the poor kid is half-asleep. "Draco's been touchy."

He leaves the words in the air as I steal another look at the sullen boy who's mumbling something in annoyance to Pansy as she shakes her head before furiously turning another page in her book. 

"I'm not sure why you think I'd be any help with that." I admit, not bothering with the formalities of insisting that Malfoy and I are hardly friends. 

"You're more helpful than you think." Theo continues softly. "At the very least, I know if I drag you over there, he'd stop being so fucking quiet." I raise an eyebrow.

"Why do you think that?" I ask curiously, wanting to know more about the inner workings of Malfoy that only his closest friends seem privy to witnessing. Theo grins at me like my question was a stupid one. 

"He's easy to piss off if you know what buttons to press." Theo says excitably before going to stand, extending a hand as he gestures over to the set of couches he'd left earlier. 

It could have been the lack of sleep. It could be the hidden need of company. Or it could be the persistent feeling of pointlessness that's followed me like a shadow. Either way, I decide to take Theo's hand, being sure to scoop up my Potions book just to have something else to hold as I let go of his grasp and follow numbly behind him.

He saunters over with Blaise being the first to notice. A knot in my stomach begins to twist as Blaise groans out in annoyance while Theo tosses himself onto the couch, leaning against Blaise's perched legs as he pats the empty space beside him.

My next move is slightly mistaken as I look over to Malfoy who's stilled his fidgeting completely with his face setting sternly. He turns to glare daggers at Theo only to receive a wink from the blue-eyed boy. I take my seat stiffly, keeping my book clutched to my chest.

"Pierce, this is everyone." Theo comically waves a hand around towards his three friends. "Everyone, this is Pierce."

"Fucking hell." Pansy breathes out as her rapid page turning finally tears a page cleanly in half. She squints her eyes up from her book with a malicious smile gracing her features. "Pleasure." She mumbles before going back to her book. 

"What are you playing at?" Malfoy cuts in next. He shifts his body from the laid back position he was in earlier to look directly at Theo.

"Bringing in strays." Pansy says for Theo. "You know how he is Draco. Far too commiserating for all the wrong people." She doesn't bother hiding her disgust while Theo happily nods along.

"Oi, watch it Parkinson." Blaise interjects, giving a pointed glance before he goes back to his own work, gently scribbling away on some parchment with a Potions book matching my own sat in his lap. 

Pansy gives the most dramatic eye roll I've seen, which says a lot considering Malfoy is sat a foot away. "You two were more fun when you weren't so fucking in love with each other." I snap my eyes over to Theo and Blaise at Pansy's comment.

But I'm hit with surprise while Blaise shrugs lazily with a smile ghosting his lips and Theo further relaxes against Blaise's legs as if he's done it countless times and the touch is comforting. It takes only another second to begin placing the pieces together with Theo's Quidditch jumper being the standout culprit. The way its sleeves were a touch too long and how it doesn't fit him quite right like it was meant to occupy a taller body. 

Theo doesn't play Quidditch. But Blaise does.

"Leave off Parkinson." Theo sighs. "Jealousy doesn't suit you." He adds as a careful hand glides up to reach for Blaise's hand. Blaise never loses focus on his work as he moves his free hand and intertwines it with Theo's while he continues to write away. Theo looks to me now with a genuine smile placed on his lips and blue eyes brighter than the stars forming in the clouded skies.

I can't help but offer him a look of support in return. Despite everything that would have marked Blaise and Theo as the last people I'd expect to be together, it somehow makes sense and fits like it should have never been a question in the first place. 

"Sympathy makes you weak." Pansy fires back, finally snapping her abused book shut. Her shortly cropped black hair glistens in the light of the fireplace on the other side of the common room. The dancing shadows only darken her features as she glares at me with startling green eyes.

"Not sure how you'd know that considering you're incapable of the emotion." All eyes turn to Malfoy as he leans on knees, looking to Pansy as he lets the words leave his mouth.

"That didn't take long." Theo whispers with a pointed grin directed at me. 

"You're insufferable." Malfoy says at Theo, taking time to get back into his comfortable position from earlier all while avoiding looking to me completely.

"And you're the worst person to be around when you're in your moods. I was only helping the cause." Theo keeps his eyes on me, producing another wink of success like his hidden plan has all fallen into place.

"How're you helping by bringing over someone that's forgotten how to talk?" Pansy says, continuing her glaring amongst all other eyes that have slowly drifted to me. I suddenly realize I haven't shared a single word as I've sat quietly observing the four of them.

I clear my throat as I look at Pansy. She's never been someone I've particularly hated with the lack of interaction between the two of us not building enough of a reason to feel something as strongly as hate. But that's not to say I've ever felt a welcoming presence from her. Scared would be the first word that comes to mind. Or intimidated. Both seem to fit the feeling you get from the intense sense of superiority that surrounds her. 

Still, no one ever likes being made to feel small.

"I'd rather not say anything just to seem important." I say gently, not quite meeting Pansy's narrowing gaze. 

Theo's sudden laugh breaks the unsteady silence beginning to form. "This is turning out to be a better decision than I thought it would be." Theo lightly kicks at my arm as I relax.

Pansy settles further into her seat. "So, Theo's taken a liking to you." She begins with a sort of arrogance to cover any doubt that she would let anyone besides herself have the last word in conversation. "Other than being a Gryffindor whore, what else makes you so interesting?" 

"That's enough Pansy." Malfoy speaks shortly once again, not bothering to raise his voice but putting enough force behind his words to shut away Pansy's confidence. Theo begins to giggle quietly only for Blaise to gently hit his arm with the freeing of their clasped hands being enough to quiet Nott. 

Pansy looks furiously at Malfoy. "Fine. Have your way." Pansy gracefully stand from her chair before escaping up the steps to the dormitories in one fluid motion. I can't help but frown, wondering if I should leave too. It's not my place to cause unnecessary conflict between people I hardly know.

"Oh don't look so down Pierce. Pansy will worry you might actually care about her feelings and that'll really piss her off." Theo says with a grin. "She'll be over it by morning. You get used to her little outbursts after a while." I nod, wondering how many more times I'd be the cause of those outbursts and wondering even more how many more instances of Theo dragging me into a space I didn't particularly belong to would occur. 

"Finished with your fun Nott?" Malfoy asks suddenly. Theo's expression never changes as if the world's worst tragedy could never faze him. 

"Quite." Theo offers before abruptly sitting up and patting Blaise's leg. "Come along now Blaise. Best to leave these two in their current state alone. Misery doesn't always deserve company." Blaise flashes an apologetic look over his shoulder as Theo practically drags him through the thinning number of students in the common room and up the opposite stairs from where Pansy had disappeared.

"Is he always like that?" I find myself asking as I continue to look after Theo and Blaise. 

"Completely irrational and thinks he knows more than he really does?" Malfoy offers. "Always." I turn to him and see him following my gaze from earlier as his friends leave the two of us to ourselves.

I'm unsure of what to do now that there isn't anyone to mediate conversation. I'd go back to staring at pages of my book but leaving Malfoy to dwell in silence when I'm the reason he's without company at the moment seems unfair. 

"Any luck with the cabinet?" I begin to ask, but he lets out a harsh sigh, dragging his eyes to me with a certain sternness that quiets any other form of communication I was starting to put forth.

"I don't want to talk about the task." He mumbles. 

"Okay." I whisper back, hoping to find a better way of telling him that I wish everything between us didn't always lie in the foundation of our downfall. That against every urge inside myself, I can't help that it's always on my mind.

We stay in silence, only confirming how anything to do with Malfoy was not without the details of a cursed necklace and a broken cabinet as if there was no substance to any sort of trust we'd attempted to form over the passing weeks. Because that's all it was really if you boiled down the late conversations and the knowing looks. It all centered around an oncoming death and without it, there would be no need to see each other or to talk. Our identity now fortified in a secret only we share as the rest of the world spins around us in unknowing bliss.

Because we're both still uniquely alone.

"I need to go for a walk." Malfoy breaks my concentration as he stands. I stay seated, expecting him to escape through the common room doors and leave me to wonder when I'd be forced to see him next. Only he doesn't leave. Not immediately. He stands uncomfortably by the couch I sit at with his hands shoved into his pockets and his eyes glued to the ground.

"Would you want to come?" He finally asks. I peer up at him, pushing away the warmth spreading in my chest as I wordlessly nod and stand. My Potions book gets left on the couch as I follow him out the doors.

And I realize that with sleep being an unlikely choice with my crowded thoughts, I could use a walk too. That's what I focus on as I stay side by side with a boy who has just as many concerns wrapped up tightly within himself. 

Perhaps the notion of knowing someone shares your grief is enough to settle with. Because it's a feeling that people usually associate with comfort. It's not always words. 

But when it comes to Malfoy, that didn't really make sense because he is the last person anyone should find comfort in. Except maybe in silence, that obvious opinion becomes less noticeable. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading as always xx  
> (updated on wattpad as well :))


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